In my dreams I see no nearer god.

The waves that move,

They pierce my drifting soul.

With want I reach in vain to grasp the sun

As off it falls beneath the dancing fields

And paints fore'er this spout-girt majesty!

O, slimy things!

I yearn to hear you sing from depths as deep as stars doth shine

From realms of light above.

I wish to hear thee sing!

O, ammonite with aeon-closed eye!

Speak to me in water-tongues

And grant to me the eyesight you once saw

The Sea-gods with!

My voyage as above, so below

Upon a dreaming ship I sail

Upon my life I conjure they whom no dry eyes have seen

Since sleep hath stolen over forms and sunken temples built

By gods themselves!

Alone I embark for cities immersed

In depths of thought and caverns full of dreams!

What corals dress this city fallen?

What the magick language lost one-thousand leagues?

Nightmare! Come, and speak to me

From beneath the waves that rock young ships

To slumber sweet

Gods, caress me with thy chthonic hands

Steep my mind with the beauty of a vision-world

And bury me in temples where my soul

Can e'er explore these realms of madness submerged!