Classic Poem

Under my keel another boat
—Sails as I sail, floats as I float;
Silent and dim and mystic still,
—It steals through that weird nether-world,
Mocking my power, though at my will
—The foam before its prow is curled,
—Or calm it lies, with canvas furled.

Vainly I peer, and fain would see
—What phantom in that boat may be;
Yet half I dread, lest I with ruth
—Some ghost of my dead past divine,
Some gracious shape of my lost youth,
—Whose deathless eyes once fixed on mine
—Would draw me downward through the brine!