IN PORT TO-DAY
Now are harboured ships asleep
Beside their shadows,
Home from the wind-winnowed deep
And unscythed meadows
Of the bright green gliding sea,
From the windward gliding to the lee;
And one ship in port to-day
On the morrow
Southward bound will far away
The swift sea furrow;
Whom the loud Antarctic waits
And frozen citadels with creaking gates.
I have a home, though palmer bound
For holy lands, I pine for it;
I know its sheltering walls around
The hearth and lamp that shine for it,
The door apart;
I shall return on windward seas
By blue shores of Illyria
To find it filled with melodies
From Eden, beyond Syria.
It is your heart.