Off Monomoy

Have you sailed Nantucket Sound

By lightship, buoy, and bell,

And lain becalmed at noon

On an oily summer swell?

Lazily drooped the sail,

Moveless the pennant hung,

Sagging over the rail

Idle the main boom swung;

The sea, one mirror of shine

A single breath would destroy,

Save for the far low line

Of treacherous Monomoy.

Yet eastward there toward Spain,

What castled cities rise

From the Atlantic plain,

To our enchanted eyes!

Turret and spire and roof

Looming out of the sea,

Where the prosy chart gives proof

No cape nor isle can be!

Can a vision shine so clear

Wherein no substance dwells?

One almost harks to hear

The sound of the city's bells.

And yet no pealing notes

Within those belfries be,

Save echoes from the throats

Of ship-bells lost at sea.

For none shall anchor there

Save those who long of yore,

When tide and wind were fair,

Sailed and came back no more.

And none shall climb the stairs

Within those ghostly towers,

Save those for whom sad prayers

Went up through fateful hours.

O image of the world,

O mirage of the sea,

Cloud-built and foam-impearled.

What sorcery fashioned thee?

What architect of dream,

What painter of desire,

Conceived that fairy scheme

Touched with fantastic fire?

Even so our city of hope

We mortal dreamers rear

Upon the perilous slope

Above the deep of fear;

Leaving half-known the good

Our kindly earth bestows,

For the feigned beatitude

Of a future no man knows.

Lord of the summer sea,

Whose tides are in thy hand,

Into immensity

The vision at thy command

Fades now, and leaves no sign,—

No light nor bell nor buoy,—

Only the faint low line

Of dangerous Monomoy.