Somewhere on this phantom ocean rides a 

 phantom bark with all sails set, which refledt, now 

 a rose-pink, now the faintest imaginable golden 

 sheen, and disappear in the dusk. Perchance 

 there flits over the mind a haunting recolledlion 

 of that lost sea of childhood — that sea of virgin 

 impressions — to vanish also into the dusk of 

 oblivion. 



208 



