Always the setting forth was the same, Same sea, same dangers waiting for him As though he had got nowhere but older. Behind him on the receding shore The identical reproaches, and somewhere Out before him, the unravelling patience He was wedded to. There were the islands Each with its woman and twining welcome To be navigated, and one to call 'home'. The knowledge of all that he betrayed Grew till it was the same whether he stayed Or went. Therefore he went. And what wonder If sometimes he could not remember Which was the one who wished on his departure Perils that he could never sail through, And which, improbable, remote, and true, Was the one he kept sailing home to?