Leaving Delos

Wandering star of the heaven-colored

Sea; bright apple of her islands: I stand

Leaden-eyed in the new darkness before

An eidolon fading along thy dead

Receding shore, guarded by no buried

Head of Bran or brass chanting time is, was,

And is past. Only the rising wind sings,

Discordant, high up in the steel rigging.