I have a sea-going spirit haunts my sleep,
Not a sad spirit wearisome to follow,
Less like a tenant of the mystic deep
Than the good fairy of the hazel hollow;
Full often at the midwatch of the night
I see departing in his silver bark
This spirit, steering toward an Eastern light,
Calling me to him from the Western dark.
'Spirit!' I ask, 'say, whither bound away?'
'Unto the old Hesperides!' he cries.
'Oh, Spirit, take me in thy bark, I pray.'
'For thee I came, ' he joyfully replies;
'Exile! no longer shalt thou absent mourn,
For I the Spirit am men call-RETURN.'