The lake's dark breast
Is all unrest,
It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
Like a tremulous bird,
From its slumber stirred,
The moon is a-tilt in the sky.

From the silent deep
The waters sweep,
But faint on the cold white stones,
And the wavelets fly
With a plaintive cry
O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.

And the spray upsprings
On its ghost-white wings
And tosses a kiss at the stars;
While a water sprite,
In sea-pearls dight
Hums a sea hymn's solemn bars.

Far out in the night,
On the wavering sight
I see a dark hull loom:
And its light on high,
Like a Cyclop's eye
Shines out through the mist and gloom.

Now the winds well up
From the earth's deep cup
And fall on the sea and shore,
And against the pier
The waters rear
And break with a sullen roar.

Up comes the gale,
And the mist-wrought veil
Gives way to the lightning's glare.
And the cloud-drifts fall,
A sombre pall
O'er water, earth and air.

The storm-king flies,
His whip he plies
And bellows down the wind.
The lightning rash
With blinding flash
Comes pricking on behind.

Rise, waters, rise
And taunt the skies
With your swift-flitting form.
Sweep, wild winds, sweep
And tear the deep
To atoms in the storm.

And the waters leapt,
And the wild winds swept
And blew out the moon in the sky,
And I laughed with glee,
It was joy to me
As the storm went raging by!