VIII.

And in this hollow is a seat, And when you shall have crept to it, Slipping down the banks too steep To be o'erbrowzed by the sheep, Do not think--though at your feet The cliffs disrupt--you shall behold The line where earth and ocean meet; You sit too much above to view The solemn confluence of the two: You can hear them as they greet, You can hear that evermore Distance-softened noise more old Than Nereid's singing, the tide spent Joining soft issues with the shore In harmony of discontent, And when you hearken to the grave Lamenting of the underwave, You must believe in earth's communion Albeit you witness not the union.