As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning,
⁠They bicker and beckon and call;
As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning,
⁠They flicker and climb and fall.

A soft strange cry from the landward rings—
⁠'What ails the sea to shine?'
A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs—
⁠'What fires are these of thine?'

A soul am I that was born on earth
⁠For ae day's waesome span:
Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth
⁠Ere I were christened man.

'A light by night, I fleet and fare
⁠Till the day of wrath and woe;
On the hems of earth and the skirts of air
⁠Winds hurl me to and fro.'