What is it? I want to whisper here, I am not so sure.
What words, I am to endorse here, I am not so sure.
What my fingers are up to, I am not so sure.
This mind! So playful! Playing what? I am not so sure. ...
Her nature is the sea's, that smiles to-night
A radiant maiden in the moon's soft light;
The unsuspecting seaman sets his sails,
Forgetful of the fury of her gales;
To-morrow, mad with storms, the ocean roars,
And o'er his hapless wreck the flood she pours!