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44

XVII. THE GOLDEN ISLES

Wonderful golden islands
Of old, so the fable ran,
Lay in the Western Ocean,
Closed from the vision of man
Wonderful cloudless islets,
Set in a stormless sea;
Splendid with banks of coral,
Blossom and fruit and tree.
Wonderful magic islands
Ever before us gleam.
Ever we strive to reach them:
Ever they melt in a dream.
Ever we struggle onward
Over the lonely seas:
Never the islands glitter,
Never their fringe of trees!

45

So it goes on for ever.
What will the issue be?
Oh, will our vessel never
Traverse this endless sea?—
If we can reach our dreamland,
What will be waiting there?
Rapture of noble passion?
Pallor of white despair?