wavy.

Upon the dancer by the dreamless wave. Why should those lovers that no lovers miss Dream, until God burn Nature with a kiss? The man has found no comfort in the grave. From heat and cold and wind and wave; They have heaped the stones above his grave Now on my down I'm toss'd as on a wave, And my repose is made my grave;Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave, Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave.