Why do I see these empty boats, sailing
on airy seas?
One haunted me the whole night long, swaying
with every breeze,
Returning always near the eaves, or by
the skylight glass:
There it will wait me many weeks, and
then, at last, will pass.
Each soul is haunted by a ship in which
that soul might ride
And climb the glorious mysteries of Heaven’s
silent tide
In voyages that change the very metes
and bounds of Fate
O empty boats, we all refuse, that by
our windows wait!