ATLANTIS II

Here in Atlantis the slopes I walk

Look like the streets on Beacon Hill:

Salt encrusts on everything like snow;

The sea I breathe is thick blue air;

And fish, up there, are aeroplanes.

This green-gold dome adrift, was once the Capitol;

That ivory archway where I went to church;

That rubble, where I first made love,

A shattered column in the thoroughfare.

Phosphorescent people pass, pale

Irishmen perhaps, engulfed. And I

Construct these verses while we drown!