The Argonauts

ARGONAUTAE But, where the harbour’s gloomy mouth Welcomes the stranger to the south, The water shakes, and all the sea Grows silver suddenly. As one who standing on the moon Sees the vast horns in silver hewn, Himself in darkness, and beholds How silently all space unfolds Into her shapeless breast the spark And sacred phantom of the dark; So in the harbour-horns I stand Till I forget the land. Who sails through all that solemn space Out to the twilight’s secret place, The sleepy waters move below His ship’s imaginary flow. No song, no lute, so lowly chaunts In woods where still Arisbe haunts, Wrapping the wanderer with her tresses Into untold caresses. For none of all the sons of men That hath known Artemis, again Turns to the warmer earth, nor vows His secrets to another spouse. The moon resolves her beauty in The sea’s deep kisses salt and keen;