Page:Studies in Song - Swinburne (1880).djvu/90

 Then only, far under In the depths of her hold, Some gleam of its wonder Man's eye may behold, Its wild-weed forests of crimson and russet and olive and gold.

Still deeper and dimmer And goodlier they glow For the eyes of the swimmer Who scans them below As he crosses the zone of their flowerage that knows not of sunshine and snow.

Soft blossomless frondage And foliage that gleams As to prisoners in bondage