Classic Poem

Robed in vermilion the sun sinks behind Cypriot mountains;
Daintily many-hued eve mantles with rainbows Libanus;
Darkles already Beyroot between its gardens and harbor;
Beyond, the Mediterranean stretches in quest of Atlantis.
Far is the sea, yet anigh; furlongs below me the surges
Hammer the beaches with foam; yet, faintly rises their clamor,
Softened to murmurings low — a scarcely audible sighing.
Various glitters the sea — calms intermixed with whitecaps;
Many the breezes that cross it — orient, northern and southern;
Barks with favoring gales, steering for opposite havens,
Driven by hectoring gods, or drawn by whimsical tritons.
Broad and benign is the sea, yet few are the keels that track it;
Less than a dozen I mark, though Sidon is near and Tyrus.
But argosies manned by ghosts swiftly arrive, uncountable,
Opulent navies of old flowing in endless procession;
Tyrian, Persian, Hellene, Roman and Arab and Tartar;
Calleys of crossletted knights, Godfrey and leonine Richard;
Frigates of gunpowder times reeling through vapor of battle.
Thus for a little I gaze, wrapped in a dream of the bygone,
Careless that glorious-eyed Lulu and Miriam, near me,
Prattle their Syrian views concerning supper and breakfast.