There is never a wind to sing o'er the sea br On its dimpled bosom that holdeth in fee br Wealth of silver and magicry; br And the harbor is like to an ebon cup br With mother-o'-pearl to the lips lined up, br And brimmed with the wine of entranced delight, br Purple and rare, from the flagon of night. br br Lo, in the east is a glamor and gleam, br Like waves that lap on the shores of dream, br Or voice their lure in a poet's theme! br And behind the curtseying fisher boats br The barge of the rising moon upfloats, br The pilot ship over unknown seas br Of treasure-laden cloud argosies. br br Ere ever she drifts from the ocean's rim, br Out from the background of shadows dim, br Stealeth a boat o'er her golden rim; br Noiselessly, swiftly, it swayeth by br Into the bourne of enchanted sky, br Like a fairy shallop that seeks the strand br Of a far and uncharted fairyland.