Argonaut

His argosy spreads dawn-kissed sails, His trireme oars the dusk, On mythic seas whereover gales Of summer breathe their musk.

He hears the hail of Siren bands From headlands sunset-kissed; The Lotus-eaters wave him hands Pale in a land of mist.

For many a league he hears the roar Of the Symplegades; And through the far foam of its shore The Isle of Circe sees.

All day he looks with hazy lids At sea-gods cleave the deep; All night he hears the Nereïds Sing their wild hearts to sleep.

When heaven thunders overhead, And hell upheaves the Vast, Dim faces of the ocean’s dead Gaze at him from his mast.

He but repeats the oracle That bade him first set sail; And cheers his soul with, “All is well! Sail on! I will not fail!”

Behold! he sails no earthly barque, And on no earthly sea-- Adown the years he sails the dark Deeps of futurity.

Ideals are the ships of Greece His purpose steers afar: His seas, the skies, the Golden Fleece He seeks, the farthest star.