Our souls are wandering ships outwearied; And one upon the bridge asks: "What's ahead?" The topman's voice with an exultant sound Cries: "Love and Glory!"--then we run aground. Each isle the pilot signals when 'tis late, Is El Dorado, promised us by fate-- Imagination, spite of her belief, Finds, in the light of dawn, a barren reef. Oh the poor seeker after lands that flee! Shall we not bind and cast into the sea This drunken sailor whose ecstatic mood Makes bitterer still the water's weary flood? Such is an old tramp wandering in the mire, Dreaming the paradise of his own desire, Discovering cities of enchanted sleep Where'er the light shines on a rubbish heap. III. Strange voyagers, what tales of noble deeds Deep in your dim sea-weary eyes one reads! Open the casket where your memories are, And show each jewel, fashioned from a star; For I would travel without sail or wind, And so, to lift the sorrow from my mind, Let your long memories of sea-days far fled Pass o'er my spirit like a sail outspread. What have you seen? IV. "We have seen waves and stars, And lost sea-beaches, and known many wars, And notwithstanding war and hope and fear, We were as weary there as we are here. "The lights that on the violet sea poured down, The suns that set behind some far-off town, Lit in our hearts the unquiet wish to fly Deep in the glimmering distance of the sky; "The loveliest countries that rich cities bless, Never contained the strange wild loveliness By fate and chance shaped from the floating cloud-- And we were always sorrowful and proud! "Desire from joy gains strength in weightier measure. Desire, old tree who draw'st thy sap from pleasure, Though thy bark thickens as the years pass by, Thine arduous branches rise towards the sky; "And wilt thou still grow taller, tree more fair Than the tall cypress? --Thus have we, with care, Gathered some flowers to please your eager mood, Brothers who dream that distant things are good! "We have seen many a jewel-glimmering throne; And bowed to Idols when wild horns were blown In palaces whose faery pomp and gleam To your rich men would be a ruinous dream; "And robes that were a madness to the eyes; Women whose teeth and nails were stained with dyes; Wise jugglers round whose neck the serpent winds--" V. And then, and then what more? VI. "O childish minds! "Forget not that which we found everywhere, From top to bottom of the fatal stair, Above, beneath, around us and within, The weary pageant of immortal sin.