Out beyond the sunset could I but find the way, <br />Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay, <br />And there's the Blessed City &mdash so the sailors say &mdash <br />The Golden City of St. Mary. <br /> <br />It's built of fair marble &mdash white &mdash without a stain, <br />And in the cool twilight when the sea-winds wane <br />The bells chime faintly, like a soft warm rain, <br />In the Golden City of St. Mary. <br /> <br />Among the green palm-trees where the fire-flies shine, <br />Are the white tavern tables where the gallants dine, <br />Singing slow Spanish songs like old mulled wine, <br />In the Golden City of St. Mary. <br /> <br />Oh I'll be shipping sunset-wards and westward-ho <br />Through the green topping combers a-shattering into snow, <br />Till I come to quiet moorings and a watch below, <br />In the Golden City of St. Mary.<br /><br />John Masefield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-golden-city-of-st-mary/
