List!— on the wave!— what can they be,
Those sounds that hither glide?
No lovers whisper tremulously
Under the ship's round side!
No sail across the dark blue sphere
Holds white obedient way;
No far-fled, sharp-winged boat is near,
No following fish at play!
‘ Tis not the rippling of the wave,
Nor sighing of the cords;
No winds or waters ever gave
A murmur so like words;
Nor wings of birds that northward strain,
Nor talk of hidden crew:
The traveller questioned, but in vain —
He found no answer true.