Ponc De Lon

By a black wharf I stood lately,     When the night was at its noon;     Keen, malicious stars were shining,     And a wicked, white-faced moon.     And I saw a stately vessel,     Built in fashion quaint and old;     From her masthead, in the moonlight,     Hung a flag of faded gold.     Black with age her masts and spars were,     Black with age her ropes and rails;     Like a ghost through cere-cloths gazing     Shone the white moon through her sails.     Not a movement stirred the stillness,     Not a sound the silence broke,     Save alone the livid water     Lapping round her sides of oak.     Then to her unseen commander     Spake I, as to one I knew,     Don Juan Ponc de Lon,     I have waited long for you.     Take me with you, I implore you!     Take me with you on your quest     For the Fount of Youth Eternal,     For the Islands of the Blest.     Then above the bulwarks ancient     I beheld a head arise;     And the moon with ghastly glimmer     Lit its sad and hollow eyes.     Grieved am I, seor, and sorry,     Very courteously it said,     That I may not take you with me,     But I only take the Dead.     These alone may dare the voyage,     These alone sail on the quest     For the Fount of Youth Eternal,     For the Islands of the Blest.