Excerpt:
In that far land, farther than Yucatan, Hondurian height, or Mahogany steep, Where the great sea, hollowed by the hand of man Hears deep come calling across to deep; Where the great seas follow in the grooves of men Down under the bastions of Darien:
In that land so far that you wonder whether If God would know it should you fall down dead; In that land so far through the wilds and weather That the lost sun sinks like a warrior sped,-- Where the sea and the sky seem closing together, Seem closing together as a book that is read:
In that nude warm world, where the unnamed rivers Roll restless in cradles of bright buried gold; Where white flashing mountains flow rivers of silver As a rock of the desert flowed fountains of old; By a dark wooded river that calls to the dawn, And calls all day with his dolorous swan:
