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| ONE touch there is of magic white, | |
| Surpassing southern mountain’s snow, | |
| That to far sails the dying light | |
| Lends, where the dark ships onward go | |
| Upon the golden highway broad | 5 |
| That leads up to the isles of God. | |
| |
| One touch of light more magic yet, | |
| Of rarer snow ’neath moon or star | |
| Where, with her graceful sails all set, | |
| Some happy vessel seen afar, | 10 |
| As if in an enchanted sleep | |
| Steers o’er the tremulous stretching deep. | |
| |
| O ship! O sail! far must ye be | |
| Ere gleams like that upon ye light: | |
| O’er golden spaces of the sea, | 15 |
| From mysteries of the lucent night, | |
| Such touch comes never to the boat | |
| Wherein across the waves we float. | |
| |
| O gleams more magic and divine, | |
| Life’s whitest sail ye still refuse, | 20 |
| And flying on before us shine | |
| Upon some distant bark ye choose. | |
| —By night or day, across the spray, | |
| That sail is very far away. | |
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