Classic Poem

This is the sea where good and evil merge.
The night is black: we sail towards what sun
or lurid star may flare below the verge.
This is the night where good or bad is none.

O wandering soul upon this darkling surge,
does it not pain thee for the days now done,
the narrow days ere some dark god did urge
to seek some isle where life is whole and one!

Those days of sweetness and content are flown,
tho' narrow, brimming — nor to sing their dirge
beseems thee now, nor any backward moan.

Out beyond good and evil are we blown:
then wait not that the dark One lift his scourge.
Shake out the sail: somewhere his face is shown.