WHISPER, O wings of the wind! Sing me your song, O sea!
Grey is the weary world, and grey is the heart of me!
Into my shadowy heart pierce like the star of old,
Sing me the hope made sure, sing me the heart made strong!
Onward ever and on, O swift, green bird of the sun;
Keen with a tireless beat is the rush of thy wings that soar;
What though we die forgot and sad for the song unsung!
For, ever the dream-world floats, a light on a misty bar,
Follows a spirit ship that bears o’er a spirit sea
Silver the giant sails loom through the amber haze,
And ever the voices call, out of the golden light,
Call like the ring of steel and thrill as of bugles blown,
Deep in the eastern skies glimmers that phantom star;
Ah, but like broken swords, scattered along the van,
Ah, but they die not so; out of their ashes then
Wings of the swift green Earth, ever and ever young—
This is the rune I heard flung by the ocean old,