My carrack rides the wave below,
The castle glooms above—
"Now who will sail the sea with me,
To find the man I love?"
Three pilots tall sit in the hall,
And drink my father's ale—
"Now one of three must go with me,
This ship of mine to sail."
Deep, deep they quaffed, and quaffing,
Struck the board with tankard chine—
"Now in what port, to East or West,
Dwells this true love of thine?"
"I seek no port to East or West,
But down beyond the rim,
By following far the falling star,

My ship will come to him.
"He rules a land of surfless shores,
Of deep enchanted bays;
Where time is twice as long again,
And half the nights are days;
"Where dreams are dreamt with open eyes;
Where love forbears to change;
And all that's new is old and sweet,
And all that's old is strange."
Loud, loud they laughed, and laughing,
Blew the foam from bearded lips
As blows the gale the whiter foam
From the bows of plunging ships.
Then up and spake the youngest one—
And laughter seamed his cheek—
"There is no port beyond the rim,
Such as the port you seek.
"The sea is wide, and isles may hide
Unknown to pilot's eye;
But this, methink, lies on the brink,

When glows the ev'ning sky:
"A vapory shore that fades before
The swift-advancing stars;
Where rides the moon on blue lagoon
Embayed by golden bars."
He ceased; and the boisterous laughter
Rose rumbling thro' the hall.
It swept like a gale among the mail,
And the banners shook like shivered sail,
As it rolled from wall to wall.
Then up and spake the second one:
"I fear not wind nor wave;
But this soft clime of twice-long time
Must lie beyond the grave.
"No seaman's skill, no pilot's art,
May find that port, I ween,
For God alone doth read the chart
Of that dark sea between.
"And though I serve my Lord and King
With head, and heart, and hand,
I will not make, for woman's sake,

A voyage to find that land!"
They laughed, but they laughed less lightly,
As though they felt their breath,
And cheered the jest to free the breast
From ugly thoughts of death.
The maiden stepp'd three paces back,
But nothing did she say—
She turned her eyes upon the west,
She signed the cross upon her breast,
Then bent her knee to pray.
Dear heart, but it was beautiful
To hear that maiden's prayer!
So strong of faith, so rich with love—
It seem'd as though the sun above
Slipp'd down to drink its share.
And the saint on the window painted
Looked down on her bended head,
As a father who lingers watching
Soft breathed above the dead—
Looked down from the glowing casement,

From the sun-lit crimson glass—
Then followed a murmur of whispered prayer,
And a silence descended unaware,
Like the silence of the mass.
Then up she rose like one refreshed,
Who bendeth o'er a stream
And drinketh deep, and in her eyes
There shone the light that mocks the wise
And maketh doubt a dream.
Then up she rose as one refreshed
And spake but once again:
"If you trust your heart above your art
Our search will not be vain."
Then stood and spake the oldest one:
"My eyes are true and keen,
And I have sailed for four-score years
Wherever ship hath been.
"From East to West, from North to South,
With every wind that blows,
I know no land beyond the rim

Where boundless bays repose;
"Where sleeps the sea along the strand
Of sky-like slopes that wear
So rich a light the very night
Forgets to linger there.
"It seems to me, if such there be,
No man could pass it by;
And I will make, for thy dear sake,
This voyage before I die.
"And if I fail that port to hail,
God fend my soul. Oh, pray!
The task I take for love's sweet sake
May wash some sins away."