Classic Poem

On to the beach the quiet waters crept:
But, though I stood not far within the land,
No tidal murmur reach'd me from the strand.
The mirror'd clouds beneath old Arran slept.
I look'd again across the watery waste:
The shores were full, the tide was near its height,
Though scarcely heard: the reefs were drowning fast,
And an imperial whisper told the might
Of the outer floods, that press'd into the bay,
Though all besides was silent. I delight
In the rough billows, and the foam-ball's flight:
love the shore upon a stormy day;
But yet more stately were the power and ease
That with a whisper deepen'd all the seas.