A Myth

 A FLOATING, a floating 
Across the sleeping sea, 
All night I heard a singing bird 
Upon the topmast tree. 

“Oh, came you from the isles of Greece 
Or from the banks of Seine; 
Or off some tree in forests free, 
Which fringe the western main?” 

“I came not off the old world 
Nor yet from off the new—
But I am one of the birds of God 
Which sing the whole night through.” 

“Oh, sing and wake the dawning— 
Oh, whistle for the wind; 
The night is long, the current strong,
My boat it lags behind.” 

“The current sweeps the old world, 
The current sweeps the new; 
The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, 
Ere thou hast sail’d them through.”

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