The Dream-Bearer

From what far wonderland of dreams,
What island of remotest seas,
O Golden Galleon, sailest thou
With white wings on the breeze?

Thou stately splendor, pressing on
From mystic East to radiant West,
On what proud errand art thou bent--
What high, mysterious quest?

The great sea bears thee up; the waves
With slow upheaval lift thy bow;
With long and steady sweep they glide
Under thy gleaming prow.

Thy slender masts, like spires of jet,
Are black against the reddening sky;
Thy sails are full--yet idly droops
Yon pennant lifted high.

All silently thou speedest on;
No sailor climbs thy shining spars;
Thy carven saints alone keep ward
Beneath or sun or stars!

O Golden Galleon, well we know
Thou hast no freight of earthly mould;
No Orient treasures dost thou bear,
No red gold lights thy hold!

Thou art but freighted with our dreams!
Sail on, O blessèd ship, sail on,
To some far land where dreams come true,
And all that’s lost is won!