Book III Adrift on an Echoless Ocean
“When descends on the Atlantic
The gigantic
Storm wind of the equinox,
... in his wroth he scourges
The toiling surges,
Laden with sea-weed from the rucks.
......
And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
Spars uplifting,
On the desolate, rainy seas—
......
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main.”
—Longfellow.