The waves sing without ceasing in their restless, surging tides beneath the sun, beneath the moon. Still they sing, shrouded in fog's net. The heart must listen to learn the truth the song, hid beneath the surface music: the melody of whales, an echo of shipwreck moan, a beach-drifted mandolin plucked by the wind of the waves. There is the silence of great depths and sea-anemone's flowering and the harmonies that resound against a fragile coral reef. Fishermen and poets, and sailors on watch in a stormwild gale, know the sound of the sea's song. And once they have heard it it sings for ever in their bones.