"There be none of beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me.
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waved lie still and gleaming,
And the lull's winds seem dreaming:

And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep,
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep-
So the spirt bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee,
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean."

-Lord Byron