A Myth

A FLOATING, a floating  
Across the sleeping sea,  
All night I heard a singing bird  
Upon the topmast tree.  
 
“Oh, came you from the isles of Greece
Or from the banks of Seine;  
Or off some tree in forests free,  
Which fringe the western main?”  
 
“I came not off the old world  
Nor yet from off the new—
But I am one of the birds of God  
Which sing the whole night through.”  
 
“Oh, sing and wake the dawning—  
Oh, whistle for the wind;  
The night is long, the current strong,
My boat it lags behind.”  
 
“The current sweeps the old world,  
The current sweeps the new;  
The wind will blow, the dawn will glow,  
Ere thou hast sail’d them through.”