I.

In the beginning,—ay, before The six-days' labors were well o'er; Yea, while the world lay incomplete, Ere God had opened quite the door Of this strange land for strong men's feet,— There lay against that westmost sea One weird-wild land of mystery.

A far white wall, like fallen moon, Girt out the world. The forest lay So deep you scarcely saw the day, Save in the high-held middle noon: It lay a land of sleep and dreams, And clouds drew through like shoreless streams That stretch to where no man may say.

Men reached it only from the sea, By black-built ships, that seemed to creep Along the shore suspiciously, Like unnamed monsters of the deep. It was the weirdest land, I ween, That mortal eye has ever seen:

A dim, dark land of bird and beast, Black shaggy beasts with cloven claw,— A land that scarce knew prayer or priest, Or law of man, or Nature's law; Where no fixed line drew sharp dispute 'Twixt savage man and silent brute.