A miner stood beside his mine, He pull'd his beard, then look'd away Across the level sea of sand, Beneath his broad and hairy hand, A hand as hard as knots of pine. "It looks so like a sea," said he. He pull'd his beard, and he did say, "It looks just like a dried-up sea." Again he pull'd that beard of his, But said no other thing than this. A stalwart miner dealt a stroke, And struck a buried beam of oak. An old ship's beam the shaft appear'd, With storm-worn faded figure-head. The miner twisted, twirled his beard, Lean'd on his pick-axe as he spoke: "'Tis from some long-lost ship," he said, "Some laden ship of Solomon That sail'd these lonesome seas upon In search of Ophir's mine, ah me! That sail'd this dried-up desert sea." ... Nay, nay, 'tis not a tale of gold, But ghostly land storm-slain and old. III. But this the tale. Along a wide And sounding stream some silent braves, That stole along the farther side Through sweeping wood that swept the waves Like long arms reach'd across the tide, Kept watch and ward and still defied.... A low black boat that hugg'd the shores, An ugly boat, an ugly crew, Thick-lipp'd and woolly-headed slaves, That bow'd, that bent the white-ash oars, That cleft the murky waters through, That climb'd the swift Missouri's waves,-- The surly, woolly-headed slaves. A grand old Neptune in the prow, Gray-hair'd, and white with touch of time, Yet strong as in his middle prime; A grizzled king, I see him now, With beard as blown by wind of seas, And wild and white as white sea-storm, Stand up, turn suddenly, look back Along the low boat's wrinkled track, Then fold his mantle round a form Broad-built as any Hercules, And so sit silently. Beside The grim old sea-king sits his bride, A sun-land blossom, rudely torn From tropic forests to be worn Above as stern a breast as e'er Stood king at sea or anywhere.... Another boat with other crew Came swift and silent in her track, And now shot shoreward, now shot back, And now sat rocking fro and to, But never once lost sight of her. Tall, sunburnt, southern men were these From isles of blue Caribbean seas, And one, that woman's worshipper, Who looked on her, and loved but her.