THE SALAMANDER ISLES
Snaring lights surmount the sand-dunes of the Salamander Isles;
The chime buoys chant new tunes each tide, false soundings run for miles.
And yet, for lures like these we set such sail as we could make;
We steered by stars that sorrowed, with the moonlight in our wake.
We dipped or rose supremely as we shook our freeboard clear;
We clung, but smiled serenely when the head seas swept our gear.
We were captives of the currents, we were harried by the flaw,