Last night I dreamed of mystic isles In a shoreless sea where the crafty wiles Of wind and wave with merciless sweep Spread over the fathomless, trackless deep. There were low-thatched huts and balsam and palm The length of the isles and a fragrant balm From the healing trees soothed the mind's unrest In its seeking, searching, tireless quest. On this chartless sea phantom ships were adrift, They would leave silent moorings as anchors would lift, And suddenly fade in a misty haze Of opaline tints in lavender-grays. A feeling of sadness swept over my heart, For these dwindling masts and hulls seemed a part Of life's futile plans and the bitter cost Of a loneliness for something lost. |