‘Tell me, tell me,
Unknown stranger,
When shall I sight me
That tall ship
On whose flower-wreathed counter is gilded Sleep.’

‘Landsman, landsman,
Lynx nor kestrel
Ne’er descry from
Ocean steep
That midnight stealing, high-poop’d galleass, Sleep.’

‘Promise me, Stranger,
Though I mark not
When cold night-tide’s
Shadows creep
Thou wilt keep unwavering watch for Sleep.’

‘Myriad the lights are,
Wayworn landsman, 
Rocking the dark through
On the deep:
She alone burns none to prove her Sleep.’