Like some still angel who, in toilless might, The empyrean cleaves with unstirred wings, Heedless of his proud speed save where it springs About his feet like blown, quick-curling light -- So passed our ship in soft, gloom-charmed flight, Midmost a huge, drear shade of sea and air, Voiceless, indissoluble, saving where Prowwards awoke two folds of fiery white. The wash of dim infinity, the swoon Of vasty quiet hushed us. Then the least Dawn quivered -- nay, the east dreamed of the moon. Breathless, we watched. Again! Ah, elfin east! The white day leaped upon the world. The miles Of sea flamed loose -- and then we saw those isles. |