Fathoms from sight and hearing,

Where seas are blind and deaf.

My soul like a fish goes steering

Her fabulous gargoyle nef:

Her nef of silver and mouldering

Mother-of-pearl with eyes

Of bulging coral smouldering

Down dim green galleries.

To climb the brightening ladder

Of layer on layer of the sea

She dare not; her swimming-bladder

Would burst in the ecstasy

Of sunlight and windy motion,

White moons and the sky’s red gates.

Still in the depth of ocean

She sits and contemplates.