Hearken, landsmen, hearken, seamen,
  to the tale of grief and me,
Looking from the land of Biscay
  on the waters of the sea.

Looking from the land of Biscay
  over Ocean to the sky
On the far-beholding foreland
  paced at even grief and I.
There, as warm the west was burning
  and the east uncoloured cold,
Down the waterway of sunset
  drove to shore a ship of gold.
Gold of mast and gold of cordage,
  gold of sail to sight was she,
And she glassed her ensign golden
  in the waters of the sea.

Oh, said I, my friend and lover,
  take we now that ship and sail
Outward in the ebb of hues and
  steer upon the sunset trail;
Leave the night to fall behind us
  and the clouding counties leave:
Help for you and me is yonder,
  in a haven west of eve.

Under hill she neared the harbour
  till the gazer could behold
On the golden deck the steersman
  standing at the helm of gold,
Man and ship and sky and water
  burning in a single flame;
And the mariner of Ocean,
  he was calling as he came:
From the highway of the sunset
  he was shouting on the sea,
"Landsman of the land of Biscay,
  have you help for grief and me?"

When I heard I did not answer,
  I stood mute and shook my heat:
Son of earth and son of Ocean,
  much we thought and nothing said.
Grief and I abode the nightfall,
  to the sunset grief and he
Turned them from the land of Biscay
  on the waters of the sea.