A ship, an isle, a sickle moon--
With few but with how splendid stars
The mirrors of the sea are strewn
Between their silver bars!
* * * * * *
An isle beside an isle she lay,
The pale ship anchored in the bay,
While in the young moon's port of gold
A star-ship--as the mirrors told--
Put forth its great and lonely light
To the unreflecting Ocean, Night.
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And still, a ship upon her seas,
The isle and the island cypresses
Went sailing on without the gale:
And still there moved the moon so pale,
A crescent ship without a sail!
_James Elroy Flecker._