Ten years old, I saw down a lane
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
In ages before the world ran dry, what might the mapless not contain? Atlantis gleamed like a dream to die, Avalon lay under faerie reign, Cibola guarded a golden plain, Tir-nan-Og was fair-locked Fand’s, sober men saw from a gull’s-road wain the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
Such clanging countries in cloudland lie; but men grew weary and they grew sane and they grew grownand so did I and knew Tartessus was only Spain. No galleons call at Taprobane (Ceylon, with English); no queenly hands wear gold from Punt; nor sees the Dane the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
Ahoy, Prince Andros Horizon’s-bane! They always wait, the elven lands. An evening planet gives again the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
Poul Anderson