ARGONAUTAE
But, where the harbour’s gloomy mouth
Welcomes the stranger to the south,
The water shakes, and all the sea
Grows silver suddenly.
As one who standing on the moon
Sees the vast horns in silver hewn,
Himself in darkness, and beholds
How silently all space unfolds
Into her shapeless breast the spark
And sacred phantom of the dark;
So in the harbour-horns I stand
Till I forget the land.
Who sails through all that solemn space
Out to the twilight’s secret place,
The sleepy waters move below
His ship’s imaginary flow.
No song, no lute, so lowly chaunts
In woods where still Arisbe haunts,
Wrapping the wanderer with her tresses
Into untold caresses.
For none of all the sons of men
That hath known Artemis, again
Turns to the warmer earth, nor vows
His secrets to another spouse.
The moon resolves her beauty in
The sea’s deep kisses salt and keen;