And find no comrade more.

 The wolfish fear that children feel

 Is snuffing at my heel.

 I hear the hollow sound

 Of a great ship coming round,

 The thunder of tackle and the tread

 Of sailors overhead.

 That stormy-blown hulloo

 Has orders for me, too.

 I see thee, hand at mouth, and hark,

 My captain of the dark.

 O wind of the great East,

 By whom we are released

 From this strange dusty port to sail

 Beyond our fellows’ hail,

34

 Under the stars that keep

 The entry of the deep,

 Thy somber voice brings up the sea’s

 Forgotten melodies;

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