There rolls the deep where grew the tree.
⁠O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
⁠There where the long street roars, hath been
The stillness of the central sea.

The hills are shadows, and they flow
⁠From form to form, and nothing stands;
⁠They melt like mist, the solid lands,
Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

But in my spirit will I dwell,
⁠And dream my dream, and hold it true;
⁠For tho' my lips may breathe adieu,
I cannot think the thing farewell.