Unyielding in the pride of his defiance, <br />Afloat with none to serve or to command, <br />Lord of himself at last, and all by Science, <br />He seeks the Vanished Land. <br /> <br />Alone, by the one light of his one thought, <br />He steers to find the shore from which he came, <br />Fearless of in what coil he may be caught <br />On seas that have no name. <br /> <br />Into the night he sails, and after night <br />There is a dawning, thought there be no sun; <br />Wherefore, with nothing but himself in sight, <br />Unsighted, he sails on. <br /> <br />At last there is a lifting of the cloud <br />Between the flood before him and the sky; <br />And then--though he may curse the Power aloud <br />That has no power to die-- <br /> <br />He steers himself away from what is haunted <br />By the old ghost of what has been before,-- <br />Abandoning, as always, and undaunted, <br />One fog-walled island more.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-flying-dutchman/
