Whistled, and the spires above the harbor
Glistened, and the hawsers, letting go,
Dangled in salt.
So easterly they sailed,
And sailed; then south a little. And the crew
Thought only of the Pillars, of the inland
Sea where waves were smaller. But these ten,
Prone on the prow, disdained the autumn danger
Of storm, of the dark swell. Their daily vision—
Common to them all, since reconciled—