There for ever the sisters of Phaethon languish,
For grief of his fate bowing hush’d o’er the stream;
Like eyes in the gloaming, the tears of their anguish
Up through the dark water as amber-drops gleam.
Or far let me wing to the fäery beaches
Where the Maids of the Sunset ’neath apple-boughs dance,
And the Lord of the Waters his last purple reaches
Hath closed to the mariner’s restless advance;
Where from Atlas the sky arches down to the streaming
Of the sea, and the spring of Eternity flows