I got into a wakeful habit when poor Frederick was at sea; and now, even if I don't waken all at once, I dream of him in some stormy sea, with great, clear, glass-green walls of waves on either side his ship, but far higher than her very masts, curling over her with that cruel, terrible white foam, like some gigantic crested serpent. 
If I don't waken, I dream of him in some stormy sea, with great, clear, glass-green walls of waves on either side his ship, higher than her masts, curling over her like some gigantic crested serpent. 