THE BLACK SAIL
Reading edition
How did it seem, that warm thyme-scented day When emerald figs hung swelling in the dark Rose-nippled glooms of laurel and of bay, And pomegranate flowers burned their spark Through cypresses, to wait ’neath temple frieze, Scanning the hermless highways of the seas, Watching for one white canvas far away, And when the morning seemed to grow so late, Going, amaracus and grapes to lay With reeds and gums on Nike’s stylobate, Muttering: “’Tis the Day—he cannot fail!” Then on a sudden, seeing—the black sail!