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 Poncé de Léon,
    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, señor, 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.”