THERE be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee；
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me：
When as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing
The waves lie still and gleaming
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming：
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep
Whose breast is gently heaving
As an infant's asleep：
So the spirit bows before thee
To listen and adore thee；
With a full but soft emotion
Like the swell of summer's ocean.