Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2236/Peace

and wild waves in headlong huge commotion Scud, dark with tempest, o’er the Atlantic’s breast; While underneath, few fathoms deep in ocean, Lie peace, and rest.

Storms in mid-air, the rack before them sweeping, Hurry, and hiss, like furies hate-possessed; While over all white cloudlets pure are sleeping In peace, in rest.

Heart, O wild heart! why in the storm-world ranging Flit’st thou thus midway, passion’s slave and jest, When all so near above, below, unchanging, Are heaven, and rest?