| FREE to all souls the hidden beauty calls, | |
| The sea thrift dwelling on her spray-swept height, | |
| The lofty rose, the low-grown aconite, | |
| The gliding river and the stream that brawls | |
| Down the sharp cliffs with constant breaks and falls— | 5 |
| All these are equal in the equal light— | |
| All waters mirror the one Infinite. | |
| |
| God made a garden, it was men built walls; | |
| But the wide sea from men is wholly freed; | |
| Freely the great waves rise and storm and break, | 10 |
| Nor softlier go for any landlord's need, | |
| Where rhythmic tides flow for no miser's sake | |
| And none hath profit of the brown sea-weed, | |
| But all things give themselves, yet none may take. | |