The poem
Fate, out of the deep sea's gloom, When a man's heart's pride grows great, And nought seems now to foredoom Fate,
Fate, laden with fears in wait, Draws close through the clouds that loom, Till the soul see, all too late,
More dark than a dead world's tomb, More high than the sheer dawn's gate, More deep than the wide sea's womb, Fate.