I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold <br /> How the voluminous billows roll and run, <br /> Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun <br /> Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled, <br /> And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold <br /> All its loose-flowing garments into one, <br /> Plunges upon the shore, and floods the dun <br /> Pale reach of sands, and changes them to gold. <br /> So in majestic cadence rise and fall <br /> The mighty undulations of thy song, <br /> O sightless bard, England's Mæonides! <br /> And ever and anon, high over all <br /> Uplifted, a ninth wave superb and strong, <br /> Floods all the soul with its melodious seas.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/milton/
