The Ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet, and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none.
The awful spirits of the deep
Hold their communion there;
And there are those for whom we weep,
The young, the bright, the fair.
Calmly the wearied seamen rest
Beneath their own blue sea.
The ocean solitudes are blest,
For there is purity.
The earth has guilt, the earth has care,
Unquiet are its graves;
But peaceful sleep is ever there,
Beneath the dark blue waves.
The ocean is a frightful place, unfathomable, where many people have gone and few returned. Yet there is something sacred, almost inviolable, about its peace and alien quiet, in those very depths. "Peaceful sleep is ever there, beneath the dark blue waves." Fearful and peaceful all at once, the dark deep ocean here is death, the afterlife. We cannot know it, and what truly occurs there is beyond our scope. We fear and revere it, and mourn those who have gone there. The language of the poem is simple and clear, with a lilting cadence and simple rhyme scheme. It fits the calm ascribed to the depths, and puts me at peace.