Ezekiel

A solitary tower guards the great rock-rim

Of stone, the granite cliff, and there a

Salt sea bends its emerald waves,

And fills the chasm-valley where

No treasures are, but empty shells,

All filled the night-long emptiness,

No bird-song echoes there,

The mist-wind meets the sail,

And restless spirits murmur, feverish,

Sea-breakers mourn incessantly,

The tower is still,

Brave watchman for

The dawn.