• Come down, ye graybeard mariners,
      Unto the wasting shore!
    The morning winds are up,—the gods
      Bid me to dream no more.
    Come tell me whither I must sail,
      What peril there may be,
    Before I take my life in hand
      And venture out to sea!

    “We may not tell thee where to sail,
      Nor what the dangers are;
    Each...