Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,

Come, let us go,—to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,

Where every breath even now changes to ether divine.

Come, let us go; though withal a voice whisper, ‘The world that we live in,

Whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib;

’Tis but to prove limitation, and measure a cord, that we travel;

Let who would ’scape and be free go to his chamber and think;

’Tis but to change idle fancies for memories wilfully falser;

’Tis but to go and have been.’—Come, little bark! let us go.

i. Claude To Eustace.