Cornwall and the harbor   Where witches went mad more than once   And until this day in dreams at least   The lighthouse at Lost Christabel      Squat and hugely tilts upon the strand   Where Granddad's house was built   And having stood the test of time   The starry gale the bloody tide      Granddad's house though gaped with hooks   And filled with books   Could stand no more until a certain prophecy   Once read now stood, before the world fulfilled      Now of these books in Granddad's keep   Some of them were new but mostly they were old   And the oldest was a scroll, a prophecy that read   When the riddle begins the story will end      August, the First 1892 and in the guise of destiny   Granddad quit Cornwall, "I'm a captain of a ship   My ship is charmed and called Plutonia"   Stories on land, storms at sea 'tween 1892 and '93   When Granddad sailed for Mexico      Ships charmed and ordinary   Sailed the glide path to the sun   And when the sun proved false   As it always does   Some of them would be lost   And some would sail back home      It was no star but a magna of illusion   I mean by that, the mirror found   In the chamber of jade   Grown like a seed, deep within the ground      The mirror found by one man   So on and off again   He sailed the Europe's rim   On and off, off and on   Until his time had come      Through tears and smiles, the last domain   The rods of broken crystal   On and off and off again until his time had come   Late to the story that had been   But early to the riddle not yet begun      August, the First 1893   The charmed ship Plutonia   Sailed like a ray into Cornwall   And none too soon it seems      That night the Captain's granddaughter   Would celebrate her birthday   "I've come a long way", said the Captain   "From Lost Christabel this night"      "Accompanied by my dog familiar   To blast your rafters with my surprise   Granddaughter, it's a foreign mirror   Taken from the jungle by crime"      Stories on land, storms at sea   'Tween 1892 and '93   When Granddad sailed for Mexico      When tables collapse   And floors have filled   And the party's over, it's all over   Sea-dogs and rockers will dwell on doom      I've warped the stuff of ground   What seems to be is not   Behind closed eyes   Realize your sight      Mine, granddaughter, proves a surprise   More light than sun   More dark than night   Then more a snare than lust