Classic Poem

I.

Two seas our eyes beheld—one dark, one light;
 And one above the other; for a screen
 Of billowy cloud lay, level-poised, between
Ocean and sky, in undulation white
As snows of Zembla. Half-way up the height
 That caps Mount Désert, spell-bound by the scene,
 We stood and marvelled. Had there ever been,
Since Israel's pilgrim march, so weird a sight?
Meanwhile the sailors, beating to and fro
 On shadowed waters, dreamed not of the still,
 Pellucid beauty of that upper day;
Their captive eyes saw only from below,
 While we, from our sheer lookout on the hill,
 Scanned either level, happier-placed than they.

II.

Brief our advantage; presently the sun,
 Nearing the noon-mark, gathered all his might,
 And smote those vapors till they broke in flight;
Not hastily, for panic there was none,
But with slow movement Eastward, one by one,
 The cloud battalions drifted from our sight,
 Till everywhere, from verge to verge, was light;
And those below saw clear, as we had done.
God shows enfranchised spirits, such as thine,
 Dear friend, dear brother, who beside me stood
 That morning on the mount, both sides of things;
The dim, the bright; the earthly, the divine.
 Spirits in shadow see but one. Oh, would
 The days were born of which the Sibyl sings!