Those that of late had fleeted far and fast1
To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill2
Of others their old craft seaworthy still,3
Have charter’d this ; where, mindful of the past,4
Our true co-mates regather round the mast,5
Of diverse tongue, but with common will6
Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil7
And crocus, to pur forth and brave the blast ;8
For some, descending from the sacred peak9
Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued again10
Their lot with ours to rove the world about ;11
And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek12
If any golden harbour be for men13
In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt.14