On music drawn away, a sea-borne mariner,
Star over bowsprit
pale,
Beneath a roof of mist or depths of lucid air
I put out under sail;Breastbone
my steady bow and lungs full, running free
Before a following
gale,
I ride the rolling back and mass of every sea
By Night wrapt in her
veil;
All passions and all joys that vessels undergo
Tremble alike in me;
Fair wind, or waves in havoc when the tempests blow
On the enormous sea
Rock me, and level calms come silvering sea and air,
A glass for my despair.
