My purpose holds/ To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths/ Of all the western stars, until I die./ It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;/ It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles/ And see the great Achilles.
Our island home/ Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.
This gray spirit yearning in desire/ To follow knowledge like a sinking star,/ Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
. . . cling to Faith beyond the forms of Faith.
Come, my friends,'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.Push off, and sitting well in order smiteThe sounding furrows; for my purpose holdsTo sail beyond the sunset, and the bathsOf all the western stars, until I die.