Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nympths hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,--ding-dong bell.
And I was going to sea myself; to sea in a schooner, with a piping boatswain, and a pigtailed singing seamen; to sea, bound for an unknown island, and to seek for buried treasures!
Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more:--and sure it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:--But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
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