The Sea of Faith was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true to one another!

by Matthew Arnold 1822–88 , English poet and essayist;

in ‘Dover Beach’ (1867) l. 21