BURNT SHIPS

 TO skies that were brighter 
Turned he his prows; 
To gods that were lighter 
Made he his vows.
 

The snow-land's mountains 
Sank in the deep; 
Sunnier fountains 
Lulled him to sleep.
 

He burns his vessels, 
The smoke flung forth 
On blue cloud-trestles 
A bridge to the north.
 

From the sun-warmed lowland 
Each night that betides, 
To the huts of the snow-land 
A horseman rides.

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