As I’ve reflected on our trip to Antarctica, and all my photos of the ocean, I’ve been recalling the poem, that inspired the name of this blog, On The Sea, by John Keats.
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, 
and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, 
till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often ’tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell 
Be moved for days from where it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
O ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
O ye! whose ears are dinn’d with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody, —
Sit ye near some old cavern’s mouth, 
and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired! 
Aug 1817.
Beautiful