Sonnet. On The Sea – John Keats
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate[mp1] shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts[mp2] twice ten thousand caverns[mp3] , till the spell
Of Hecate[mp4] leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often ’tis in such gentle temper found
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be mov’d for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound
Oh ye! Who have your eye-balls vex’d and tir’d,
Feast them upon the wideness of the sea;
Oh ye! Whose ears are dinn’d[mp5] with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with claying melody, —
Sit ye near some old cavern’s mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir’d!
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