STEER, hither steer your winged pines, <br /> All beaten mariners! <br />Here lie Love's undiscover'd mines, <br /> A prey to passengers-- <br />Perfumes far sweeter than the best <br />Which make the Phoenix' urn and nest. <br /> Fear not your ships, <br />Nor any to oppose you save our lips; <br /> But come on shore, <br />Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more. <br /> <br />For swelling waves our panting breasts, <br /> Where never storms arise, <br />Exchange, and be awhile our guests: <br /> For stars gaze on our eyes. <br />The compass Love shall hourly sing, <br />And as he goes about the ring, <br /> We will not miss <br />To tell each point he nameth with a kiss. <br /> --Then come on shore, <br />Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.<br /><br />William Browne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sirens-song/
