The Lighthouse

IN seas far north, day after day We leaned upon the rail, engrossed In frolic fin and jewel spray And crystal headlands of the coast. Those beauties held so long in gaze Have melted from my mind like snow, But still I see through rifted haze The wizard tower and portico That flashed one instant, white and whist, A grace too exquisite to keep, A picture springing from the mist As a dream comes shining out of sleep. I do not know what name he wrote, Our captain, in his good ship's log, For that sea-wraith, —how men denote Our fleeting phantom of the fog; But yet across the world I thrill With rapture of that ivory gleam, That sudden shaft of glory, till It wears the wonder of a dream.