How long will ye round me be swelling, <br />O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea? <br />Not always in caves was my dwelling, <br />Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree. <br />Thro' the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma <br />In the steps of my beauty I stray'd; <br />The warriors beheld Ninathóma, <br />And they blessèd the white-bosomed maid! <br />A ghost! by my cavern it darted! <br />In moon-beams the spirit was drest-- <br />For lovely appear the departed <br />When they visit the dreams of my rest! <br />But disturbed by the tempest's commotion <br />Fleet the shadowy forms of delight-- <br />Ah, cease, thou shrill blast of the ocean! <br />To howl through my cavern by night.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-complaint-of-ninathoma/
