Chapter XXIII: Book III: Adrift on an Echoless Ocean

“When descends on the Atlantic
The gigantic
Storm wind of the equinox,
... in his wroth he scourges
The toiling surges,
Laden with sea-weed from the rucks.

* * * * *

And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
Spars uplifting,
On the desolate, rainy seas--

* * * * *

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main.”
--LONGFELLOW.