After long labouring in the windy ways, On smooth and shining tides Swiftly the great ship glides, Her storms forgot, her weary watches past;
Northward she glides, and through the enchanted haze Faint on the verge her far hope dawns at last.
The phantom sky-line of a shadowy down, Whose pale white cliffs below Through sunny mist aglow, Like noon-day ghosts of summer moonshine gleam---Soft as old sorrow, bright as old renown, There lies the home, of all our mortal dream.
