A Myth

A FLOATING, a floating Across the sleeping sea, All night I heard a singing bird Upon the topmast tree. “Oh, came you from the isles of Greece Or from the banks of Seine; Or off some tree in forests free, Which fringe the western main?” “I came not off the old world Nor yet from off the new— But I am one of the birds of God Which sing the whole night through.” “Oh, sing and wake the dawning— Oh, whistle for the wind; The night is long, the current strong, My boat it lags behind.” “The current sweeps the old world, The current sweeps the new; The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, Ere thou hast sail’d them through.”