The Voyage

When I remember how the bark of Youth
Left port invited by the smooth bright sea,
With white wings stretched, to find the goddess Truth
Rise from deep waters shining magically;
And how his eyes dimmed with the ache of staring,
And how his ears deafened by roaring spray
Seek still a track dark water-hills o'er-faring,
Still strain to catch her music in some bay:
And his bright years all sunk in the cold wave,
And love's most fair soft-glinting armoury
Lying salt-rusted in a watery grave;
His voyage but an arabesque upon the sea—
I think, finding such beauty is in this,
That, loving Truth, Truth had been always his.