Ten thousand dreamships sail the sea of night,
from ten thousand quays which have no name,
sails full bellied shimmer the thin light
of hunters moon, and stars cold distant flame
in constellations strange, which span the sky
in forms mysterious, unmapped of man,
whose spinning shifting shapes confuse the eye,
and deceive to different ends the dreamers plan.
the helmsman stands his watch throughout the night
and steers by wand'ring compass needles tip
as down the wind he charts his dreamships flight,
a lonely mind upon an empty ship.
the bird of prey flies o'er the wine dark sea
deciding that which will, or will not, be.
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