The boat ploughed on. Now Alcatraz was past br And all the grey waves flamed to red again br At the dead sun's last glimmer. Far and vast br The Sausalito lights burned suddenly br In little dots and clumps, as if a pen br Had scrawled vague lines of gold across the hills; br The sky was like a cup some rare wine fills, br And stars came as he watched br -- and he was free br One splendid instant -- back in the great room, br Curled in a chair with all of them beside br And the whole world a rush of happy voices, br With laughter beating in a clamorous tide. . . . br Saw once again the heat of harvest fume br Up to the empty sky in threads like glass, br And ran, and was a part of what rejoices br In thunderous nights of rain; lay in the grass br Sun-baked and tired, looking through a maze br Of tiny stems into a new green world; br Once more knew eves of perfume, days ablaze br With clear, dry heat on the brown, rolling fields; br Shuddered with fearful ecstasy in bed br Over a book of knights and bloody shields . . . br The ship slowed, jarred and stopped. There, straight ahead, br Were dock and fellows.