Far-off and veiled it seems to me...

Far off and veiled it seems to me . . . . . . . . . The face of yester dreamy sea, That breathed so soft its shining waters Pungent with odors of rosemary.

No sculptured arabesque to-day, But unhewn strength in mighty play, That heaves the ship on bursting billow And smites the cliff in its ancient way!

Beneath its silken vestments beat A lion heart of jungle heat; Its couchant soul delights in battle To fell the rock and to whelm the fleet.