The poem
What being in rank-old nature should earlier have that breath been That hére pérsonal tells off these heart-song powerful peals?— A bush-browed, beetle-brówed bíllow is it? With a soúth-wésterly wínd blústering, with a tide rolls reels Of crumbling, fore-foundering, thundering all-surfy seas in; seen Únderneath, their glassy barrel, of a fairy green. . . . . . . . . Or a jaunting vaunting vaulting assaulting trumpet telling