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THE BOWMAN
High! So high!
Endless adventure in thy questing eyes!
Over the sea thine arrow flies
Into the Western skies,
The sun, the great Pied Piper, following.
Round and round
Thy column is with a spiral wound.
Never did a ship before
Aspire to such exalted shore.
Full the sail and true the mast,
And to the crown
(It winds and winds)
Comes the ship at last.
All thy ships come surely in,
Bowman, yet thy lifted sight
Marketh not their homeward sailing,
But the arrow's flight
Far beyond the golden distance,
Following the sun into the night.
