 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
[VII Healed of my hurt, I laud the inhuman Sea]
Healed of my hurt, I laud the inhuman Sea—Yea, bless the Angels Four that there convene;
For healed I am even by their pitiless breath
Distilled in wholesome dew named rosmarine.
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |