The soul of man is the loneliest thing In life's eternal wandering That God allows ... O, isle of dreams, and orient shore! Ah miracle in sea and sky! Ah youth that fleeting love made soar To heaven! The glory upon high To dusk hath waned, yet comes once more A wonder and a cry!... The ship's bell tolled off that fair land; The sails bulged buoyantly: The sun rose mute, and large, and bland; The favouring wind swung free. We stood from that enchanted strand Into the morning sea. We rode down swinging winds away, Far o'er the moving waters wan, Seen low at pale meridan, The land was grey. The dusk came down; and like a ghost
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