  LAST night I slid into the sea of sleep, Translucent, cool and deep. I left my dusty self upon the sand Like an old garment. Naked, free, I felt the waves close over me; The curious, eager water pressed Against the white curve of my breast. Then deep, deep Through the green depths I sank Into the sea of sleep. This morning I rose out of the dark tide, I rose through darkness, and there was no light, No radiance to illume The dusk; only the pallid gloom Of sleep. First green, then blue, Then the thin water parted, and the sun shone through. There lay my body; strangely it was I. What did I bring back from the soundless deep From that grey, ancient sea of sleep:— The glint of sunken gold, the plaintive knell Of some drowned bell, Remembrance vague and dim Of ghostly argosies, The misty shores of far Hesperides, The wraith of mermaids beckoning white and slim, The faint sea-music of a curvÉd shell. |
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