Sleep At Sea Christina Rossetti

Sound the deep waters:--
        Who shall sound that deep?--
Too short the plummet,
        And the watchmen sleep.
Some dream of effort
        Up a toilsome steep;
Some dream of pasture grounds
        For harmless sheep.

White shapes flit to and fro
        From mast to mast;
They feel the distant tempest
        That nears them fast:
Great rocks are straight ahead,
        Great shoals not past;
They shout to one another
        Upon the blast.

O, soft the streams drop music
        Between the hills,
And musical the birds' nests
        Beside those rills:
The nests are types of home
        Love-hidden from ills,
The nests are types of spirits
        Love-music fills.