“‘Oh, where is the sea?’ the fishes cried,

⁠As they swam the crystal clearness through;

‘We’ve heard from of old of the ocean’s tide,

⁠And we long to look on the water’s blue.

The wise ones speak of the infinite sea.

⁠Oh, who can tell us if such there be?’

The lark flew up in the morning bright,

⁠And sang and balanced on sunny wings;

And this was its song: ‘I see the light,

⁠I look o’er a world of beautiful things;

But, flying and singing everywhere,

⁠In vain I have searched to find the air.’”