Was even as a little child that sleeps
All night its great unconsciousness of day.
Flashed when the wave rose, drooped, and slowly drew away.
From all that slumbering, full-bosomed water came;
Lay mute in childlike sleep, the moon was a gold candle-flame.
Save when a faint and mothlike air fluttered around.
But as a child that dreams and in his full sleep cries,
So turned the sleeping sea and heaved her bosom of slow sighs.