Off Monomoy

HAVE you sailed Nantucket Sound By lightship, buoy, and bell, And lain becalmed at noon On an oily summer swell? Lazily drooped the sail, Moveless the pennant hung, Sagging over the rail Idle the main boom swung; The sea, one mirror of shine A single breath would destroy, Save for the far low line Of treacherous Monomoy. Yet eastward there toward Spain, What castled cities rise From the Atlantic plain, To our enchanted eyes! Turret and spire and roof Looming out of the sea, Where the prosy chart gives proof No cape nor isle can be! Can a vision shine so clear Wherein no substance dwells? One almost harks to hear The sound of the city's bells. And yet no pealing notes Within those belfries be, Save echoes from the throats Of ship-bells lost at sea. For none shall anchor there Save those who long of yore, When tide and wind were fair, Sailed and came back no more. And none shall climb the stairs Within those ghostly towers, Save those for whom sad prayers Went up through fateful hours. O image of the world, O mirage of the sea, Cloud-built and foam-impearled, What sorcery fashioned thee? What architect of dream, What painter of desire, Conceived that fairy scheme Touched with fantastic fire? Even so our city of hope We mortal dreamers rear Upon the perilous slope Above the deep of fear; Leaving half-known the good Our kindly earth bestows, For the feigned beatitude Of a future no man knows. Lord of the summer sea, Whose tides are in thy hand, Into immensity The vision at thy command Fades now, and leaves no sign, — No light nor bell nor buoy, — Only the faint low line Of dangerous Monomoy.