This is the sea where good and evil merge.

The night is black: we sail towards what sun

or lurid star may flare below the verge.

This is the night where good or bad is none.

O wandering soul upon this darkling surge,

does it not pain thee for the days now done,

the narrow days ere some dark god did urge

to seek some isle where life is whole and one!

Those days of sweetness and content are flown,

tho’ narrow, brimming — nor to sing their dirge

beseems thee now, now any backward moan.

Out beyond good and evil are blown:

then wait not that the dark One lift his scourge.

Shake out the sail: somewhere his face is shown.