Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/143

 Every sunrise rose from rest Flying forth into the west; And they followed, faint no more, Through that ocean without shore. Three moons crescent fill and wane O'er the solitary main, When behold a green shore smile: It was that Atlantic isle, Drowned beneath the waves and years, Whereof some faint shadow peers Dubious through the modern stream Of Platonic legend-dream. High upon that green shore stood She who left their native wood; Glorious, and with solemn hand Beckoned to them there to land. Though She forthwith disappeared As the wave-worn galley neared, They knew well her presence still Haunted stream and wood and hill. There they landed, there grew great, Founders of a mighty state: There the Sacred Fire divine Burned within a wondrous shrine