The World Below the Brine

The world below the brine, / Forests at the bottom of the sea, the branches and leaves, / Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds, the thick tangle openings, and pink turf, / Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold, the play of light through the water, / Dumb swimmers there among the rocks, coral, gluten, grass, rushes, and the aliment of the swimmers, / Sluggish existences grazing there suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom, / The sperm-whale at the surface blowing air and spray, or disporting with his flukes, / The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray, / Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes, sight in those ocean-depths, breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do, / The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us who walk this sphere, / The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.