“Straight from my couch I rose, and like a ghost
    Stole through the darkness of my father’s halls;
    Fled to the sea; and in my fragile bark
    I heaped a few fresh fruits, and bore a vase
    Filled with fresh water,—­this was all my store. 
    I loosed my shallop from the anchoring rock,
    And, as it drifted out upon the tide,
    I leaned upon the single, slender oar
    Whose aid was all I asked upon the deep. 
    Before my yearning vision lay my home,
    Fading away from sight as the full tide
    Went murmuring back from its delightful shores. 
    The loveliest hour of all the twenty-four
    Charmed earth and ocean, that eventful time. 
    Moonlight and morning, softly blending, lay
    Upon the land; while down the glassy sea,
    Far in the distance, slowly stole a band
    Of sunrise glories, smiling, looking back,
    And glowing with warm splendors.  All the East
    Was crimson with their blushes, and the waves
    Which followed in their bright and stately way
    Wore crests of gold, and purple-shaded robes. 
    Next came light breezes blowing from the land,
    Odorous with roses, sweet with drowsy songs
    Of nightingales, and cool with myrtle leaves,
    Following down the path the sunrise took. 
    And next, the stars went dimly down the west,
    Crowd upon crowd, in slow and shining cars,
    Bright wheeling down their heaven-appointed way.

    “All day the sun shadowed himself in clouds;
    My cheeks scarce browned beneath his cooled rays. 
    At night I sank contentedly to sleep,
    Upon the silken cushions of my bark;
    Then mermaids, who, attracted by my voice,
    Had floated round me, underneath the waves,
    Not daring to appear, swam near, reached out
    Their arms of glowing white, and touched the boat. 
    Charmed by the helplessness of sleep in me,
    They chanted sea-hymns, and I, straightway, dreamed
    Of tinkling fountains in my father’s halls,
    And how my lover sat beside me there,
    Murmuring his words of love in my thrilled ear. 
    They rocked the bark, too, with their lily hands,
    As tender mothers rock their cradled babes: 
    And one wild sea-nymph reached and touched my hair—­
    I saw her through my dream!—­and one unstrung
    The pearls from out her own wave-wetted locks,
    And flung them by me.

                          “The fresh morn waked me;
    A current, gentle as a musical sound,
    Swept the boat onward, as by magic power. 
    At times I thought, perchance, the nymphs beneath
    Propelled it, but when I recalled my dream,
    I knew some freak of nature, or some law,
    By me uncomprehended, did the work. 
    At night I heard the naiads, in a tone
    As soft as shepherd’s reed, sing ocean-songs;
    And sometimes, in the day,