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!