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.