“He from the echoing breakers swam right fain,
Skirting the coast; if chance his eyes explore
Or far or near some haven of the main,
Or mild declivity of shelving shore.
But when he came the river-month before,
And his gaze rested on the long white gleam,
By rocks unchafed and windless evermore,
Here to his thought best landing-place did seem,
And in his soul he prayed, feeling the calm sweet stream.”