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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Seven Isles
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I dream of western waters, and of the Seven Isles,
 And of mornings when they appear
 Flowering out of the mist on a sea of smiles,
 Warm and familiar and near.

 Then O how changed! fugitive, faint, remote;
 In another world than ours,
 Vanishing apparitions, they seemed to float;
 Shadows of shadowy powers.

 Effaced, at last, as if they had never been!
 Drowned in the empty bay.
 On solitary water was nothing to be seen
 But a sail, pale on the gray.

 And I wonder, O Isles, reappearing and lost without sign
 In the solitude of the seas,
 Are the songs of the Immortals more divine
 Or their magical silences?
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