With Short, Sharp, Violent Lights Made Vivid, To Southward Far As The Sight Can Roam, Only The Swirl Of The Surges Livid, The Seas That Climb And The Surfs That Comb. Only The Crag And The Cliff To Nor'ward, And The Rocks Receding, And Reefs Flung Forward, And Waifs Wreck’d Seaward And Wasted Shoreward On Shallows Sheeted With Flaming Foam.