The Sirens (You have toiled enough, mariners! ...)

by Bayard Taylor

You have toiled enough, mariners!
Labor no more:
Lower the canvas,
Leave the oar:
Over our island
Storms cannot come:
Winds are in slumber:
Thunder is dumb.
Only the nightingale
Sings in her nest:
Balmy our couches,
Come to your rest!
Roses shall garland you,
Arms shall encircle you,
Lips shall be pressed!
Wine in the goblets
Shines ruby and gold, --
Strength to the weary,
Warmth to the cold,
Blood to the wasted,
Youth to the old!
Ah, and the rapture
Thousandfold dearer,
Ne'er to be told:
Learn ye the secret, --
Taste ye the sweetness, --
Beauty's possession
Belongs to the bold!