1 OR, from that Sea of Time, Spray, blown by the windâ€”a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells; (O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless! Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held, Murmurs and echoes still bring upâ€”Eternityâ€™s music, faint and far, Wafted inland, sent from Atlanticaâ€™s rimâ€”strains for the Soul of the Prairies, Whisperâ€™d reverberationsâ€”chords for the ear of the West, joyously sounding Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;) Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life, (For not my life and years alone I giveâ€”all, all I give;) These thoughts and Songsâ€”waifs from the deepâ€”here, cast high and dry, Washâ€™d on Americaâ€™s shores.
2 Currents of starting a Continent new, Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid, Fusion of ocean and landâ€”tender and pensive waves, (Not safe and peaceful onlyâ€”waves rousâ€™d and ominous too. Out of the depths, the stormâ€™s abysmsâ€”Who knows whence? Deathâ€™s waves, Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatterâ€™d sail.)