I

We are at sea, at sea, at sea,
Still floating onward dreamily.
The isles and capes fall far behind,
Blown backward by the salty wind.
The sky her sapphire chalice turns
Upon the deep, which gleams and burns
With sunlight; in the midst we ride,
A fleck upon the sheeny tide.
Millions of sparkles leap and dance
Above the blinding, blue expanse;
And on the round horizon-rim
The ghosts of vessels dawn and dim.
Beneath our bended glances break
The splendors of the shimmering wake.
We watch the iris-shedding wheel,
We hear the swift, melodious keel,
And wonder, when with placid eye
Some strange sea-monarch plunges by
Between his waves in marshaled file
That doff their white-plumed caps the while.

II

We are at sea, at sea, at sea,
Still floating onward dreamily.
What is this marvel that is wrought
Within our silent haunts of thought?
We hail no ships of roseate shells;
We catch no mermaid's bridal bells;
No siren's song with yearning stirs
The souls of drifting mariners.
The world, alas! hath waxed too wise
To trust her cradle lullabies,
And nevermore her feet may stand
In moonlight glades of fairyland.
Yet on the main whose gray heart beat
Beneath the westward-sailing fleet
That bore Columbus, 'neath the sun
That shone on builded Babylon,
Ourselves unto ourselves grow strange,
Made conscious of our mortal change.
We are the dream, and only we,
'Twixt the enduring sky and sea.