The tide was dark an' heavy with the
  burden that it bore,
I heard it talkin', whisperin', upon the weedy
  shore :
Each wave that stirred the sea-weed was like
  a closing door,
'Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear
  no more, no more,
                  My Grief,
                  No more!

The tide was in the salt sea-weed, and like a
  knife it tore,
The hoarse sea-wind went moaning, sooing,
  moaning o'er and o'er,
The wild sea-heart was brooding deep upon
  its ancient lore,
I heard the sob, the sooing sob, the dying
  sob at its core,
                  My Grief,
                  Its core!

The white sea-waves were wan and grey its
  ashy lips before;
The whirled spume between its jaws in floods
  did seaward pour --
O whisperin' weed, O wild sea-waves, O
  hollow baffled roar,
Since one thou hast, O dark dim Sea, why
  callest thou for more,
                  My Grief,
                  For more.