Classic Poem

" Ten thousand miles of mobile sea —
This sea of all seas blent as one
Wide, unbound book of mystery,
Of awe, of sibyl prophecy,
Ere yet a ghost or misty ken
Of God's far, first beginning when
Vast darkness lay upon the deep. "
. . . . . . .
" He looked to heaven, God; but she
Saw only his face and the sea. "
. . . . . . . . . .
" Aye, day is done, the dying sun
Sinks wounded unto death tonight;
A great, hurt swan, he sinks to rest,
His wings all crimson, blood his breast!
With wide, low wings, reached left and right,
He sings, and night and swan are one —
One huge, black swan of Helicon. "