great forests, you alarm me like a mighty fane;

like organ-tones you roar, and in our hearts of stone,

where ancient sobs vibrate, o halls of endless pain!

the answering echoes of your "de profundis" moan.

i hate thee, ocean! hate thy tumults and thy throbs,

my spirit finds them in himself. this bitter glee

of vanquished mortals, full of insults and of sobs,

i hear it in the mighteous laughter of the sea.

o starless night! thy loveliness my soul inhales,

without those starry rays which speak a language known,

for i desire the dark, the naked and the lone.

but e'en those darknesses themselves to me are veils,

where live—and, by the millions 'neath my eyelids prance,

long, long departed beings with familiar glance.