Fair crescent moon, with rim of gold, Thou movest on thy shining trail, Like Cleopatra's barge of old With gilded sail. Awaiting thee, in splendor lies The sunset land, where voyages cease, -- The Eldorado of the skies, The Port of Peace. Art thou the sport of every breeze, A derelict, at random blown; A wraith of what once rode the seas, With name unknown? Or do thy pearly decks convey Some happy souls, who see and feel The charm of that Hesperian bay, Which waits thy keel? Ah, would that I might climb thy side, The same bright pathway to pursue, And homeward turn upon that tide Of stainless blue! Launch, launch thy shallop, brilliant bark! Canst thou not see my beckoning hand? Bear me from waters cold and dark To sunset land! Alas! thou heedest not my sign; The transient dream was not to be; Thy fate the peaceful port, but mine The stormy sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AUGUST MOONRISE by SARA TEASDALE THE BETTER PART by MATTHEW ARNOLD ASIAN BIRDS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES DINING-ROOM TEA by RUPERT BROOKE |