Over that wonderful northern sea, As one who sails in a dream, sailed we,
Till, when the young moon soared on high, Nothing was round us but wave and sky.
Up in the tremulous space it swung,— A crescent dim in the azure hung;
While the sun lay low in the glowing west, With bars of purple across his breast.
The skies were aflame with the sunset glow, The billows were all aflame below;
The far horizon seemed the gate To some mystic world’s enchanted state;
And all the air was a luminous mist, Crimson and amber and amethyst.
Then silently into that fiery sea— Into the heart of the mystery—
Three ships went sailing, one by one, The fairest visions under the sun.
Like the flame in the heart of a ruby set Were the sails that flew from each mast of jet;