Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/124

 Good sailor come and tell me now

Is that my Lady's lily hand?

Or is it but the gleaming prow,

Or is it but the silver sand?

No! no! 'tis not the tangled dew,

'Tis not the silver-fretted sand,

It is my own dear Lady true

With golden hair and lily hand!

O noble pilot, steer for Troy,

Good sailor, ply the labouring oar,

This is the Queen of life and joy

Whom we must bear from Grecian shore!

The waning sky grows faint and blue,

It wants an hour still of day,

Aboard! aboard! my gallant crew,

O Lady mine, away! away!

O noble pilot, steer for Troy,

Good sailor, ply the labouring oar,

O loved as only loves a boy!

O loved for ever evermore! 110