“Am Meer.”
(Schubert.)

I.
The long moan of the monotonous
                                 sea,1
                           
                           And ceaseless wash of never-ending waves
                                  ;2
                           
                           The roll of foaming billows thro’ dim caves3
                           
                           Skirting the unknown shores ;  and hushfully4
                           
                           The lisp of lapping wavelets in soft glee5
                           
                           About the moonlit sands. No wild wind raves6
                           
                           Above the solemn waste ;  the night is still7
                           
                           save the sea-sound and casual sea-bird’s shrill.8
                           Hark !  the moan grows into a troubled cry,9
                           
                           The billows plash more suddenly, and leap10
                           
                           Like startled herds that plunge before they fly ;11
                           
                           A weird wind riseth swiftly and doth sweep12
                           
                           The salt send from each wave-top towards the sky,13
                           
                           And the great sea awaketh from its sleep.14
                           II.
The wild wind wails above the foaming seas,15
                           
                           The billows break in swirling clouds of white,16
                           
                           The sickly moon, cloud- hidden, scarce gives light,17
                           
                           And the dense mists are blown to shreds of fleece ;18
                           
                           The whole sea panteth for a wild release,19
                           
                           Like some great brute with fleeing prey in sight ;20
                           
                           And the harsh echo from the surf-beat shore21
                           
                           Blends with the boom where the great caverns roar.22
                           Hush !  the wind shivers, moans, and dies away !23
                           
                           The foam-wreath’d billows now no longer flee24
                           
                           Along the dismal track of swirling spray.25
                           
                           The stars come forth and shimmer mournfully.26
                           
                           There is no sound at all but the soft sway27
                           
                           Of long waves breathing on the sleeping sea.28