THE weary sails a moment slept, The oars¹ were silent for a space, As past Hesperian shores we swept, That were as a remembered face Seen after lapse² of hopeless years, In Hades, when the shadows meet, Dim through the mist of many tears, And strange, and though a shadow, sweet.

    So seemed the half-remembered shore, That slumbered³, mirrored in the blue, With havens⁴ where we touched of yore, And ports that over well we knew. Then broke the calm before a breeze That sought the secret of the west； And listless all we swept the seas Towards the Islands of the Blest.

    Beside a golden sanded bay We saw the Sirens, very fair The flowery hill whereon they lay, The flowers set upon their hair. Their old sweet song came down the wind, Remembered music waxing strong, Ah now no need of cords to bind⁵, No need had we of Orphic song.

    It once had seemed a little thing, To lay our lives down at their feet, That dying we might hear them sing, And dying see their faces sweet； But now, we glanced, and passing by, No care had we to tarry long； Faint hope, and rest, and memory Were more than any Siren's song.