O Mariners of the Sun, you have reached your port!
Under the Mountain of Twilight how still the mooring!
The golden boat grows dim, and you disembark.
In the taverns of nether earth may you meet rare sport,
And loves madder than ours if no more enduring,
And a night sweeter than our night though as short.
O Mariners, in that city of the dark
Forget not the greetings I gave you for my friend:
Tell her how sometimes I would rush out to find her,
And sometimes I bide unmoved, but for ever send
Love, and for ever love. And again remind her
That soon or late I will join her in the end.