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A DREAM OF DEATH.
A DREAM OF DEATH.
HERE shall we sail to-day?"—Thus said, methought, A voice, that only could be heard in dreams:
And on we glided without mast or oar,
A wondrous boat upon a wondrous sea.
Sadden, the shore curved inward to a bay,
Broad, calm, with gorgeous sea-weeds waving slow
Beneath the water, like rich thoughts that stir
In the mysterious deep of poets' hearts.
Broad, calm, with gorgeous sea-weeds waving slow
Beneath the water, like rich thoughts that stir
In the mysterious deep of poets' hearts.
So still, so fair, so rosy in the dawn
Lay that bright bay: yet something seemed to breathe,
Or in the air, or from the whispering waves,
Or from that voice, as near as one's own soul,
Lay that bright bay: yet something seemed to breathe,
Or in the air, or from the whispering waves,
Or from that voice, as near as one's own soul,
"There was a wreck last night." A wreck? then where
The ship, the crew?—The all-entombing sea
On which is writ nor name nor chronicle
Laid itself o'er them with smooth crystal smile.
The ship, the crew?—The all-entombing sea
On which is writ nor name nor chronicle
Laid itself o'er them with smooth crystal smile.
