The wan sun westers, faint and slow; <br />The eastern distance glimmers gray; <br />An eerie haze comes creeping low <br />Across the little, lonely bay; <br />And from the sky-line far away <br />About the quiet heaven are spread <br />Mysterious hints of dying day, <br />Thin, delicate dreams of green and red. <br /> <br />And weak, reluctant surges lap <br />And rustle round and down the strand. <br />No other sound . . . If it should hap, <br />The ship that sails from fairy-land! <br />The silken shrouds with spells are manned, <br />The hull is magically scrolled, <br />The squat mast lives, and in the sand <br />The gold prow-griffin claws a hold. <br /> <br />It steals to seaward silently; <br />Strange fish-folk follow thro' the gloom; <br />Great wings flap overhead; I see <br />The Castle of the Drowsy Doom <br />Vague thro' the changeless twilight loom, <br />Enchanted, hushed. And ever there <br />She slumbers in eternal bloom, <br />Her cushions hid with golden hair.<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wan-sun-westers-faint-and-slow/
