ATLANTIS.
I.
I could loose my boat,
And could bid it float
Where the idlest wind should pilot,
So its glad course lay
From this earth away,
Towards any untrodden islet.
II.
For this earth is old,
And its heart is cold,
And the palsy of age has bound it;
And my spirit frets
For the viewless nets
Which are hourly clinging round it.
III.
And with joyful glee
We have heard of thee,
Thou Isle in mid ocean sleeping;
And thy records old,
Which the Sage has told,
How the Memphian tombs are keeping.