OCEAN, THOU ART DISENCHANTED
Ocean, thou art disenchanted!
And the mariner no more
Anchors under islands haunted,
Off a silver-sanded shore;
Where he sees some Fairy’s palace
Glitter through the boscage green;
Hears the glancing of her shuttle,
And the wizard chant between.
Once the galley steering westward,
Toward the throne of Saturn sailed,
Toward the Islands of the Happy,
Where the summer never failed;
Where along the beach elysian,
Heroes born in better days
Wandered, fanned by winds eternal,
Blowing inland from the bays.
Ocean, thou art disenchanted!
And the mariner no more
Sees the sunken city glimmer,
Leagues away from any shore.
Where are Helice and Buris?
Leaning o’er the galley’s side,
Once the voyager saw them waver
With the motions of the tide.
Argosies condemned to wander
Havenless from clime to clime,
With ensanguined ingots laden,—
All have faded from the brine!
And the Triton’s shell no longer
Over yesty waves is blown;
And Poseidon’s burnished axle
Drifts a wreck upon the foam.
These are gone—but still thy surges
Kiss and girdle isles of balm,
Clasping beaches beryl-paven,
Latitudes of endless calm!