A word out of the sea,
subtle, sent up
What is it?
I listen
Are you whispering it,
and have been all the time,
you sea-waves?
Is that it
from your liquid rims
and wet sands?
The sea of
always ready graves.
Delaying not, hurrying not,
Whisper’d me through the night
and very plainly
before daybreak
Lisp'd to me the key,
the word up from the waves
The word final,
superior to all,
The low and delicious word death.
