Classic Poem

Here is no rock hewn grave,
No earth to be cleft asunder;
Over the long green wave
The sky is dark with thunder.

The hiss of a hot rain
Light at the sea's edge breaking.
You who sleep on the Spanish Main
This is the day for waking!

Not with lilies and bells,
Or a sweet incense burning,
But white blossoms cresting the swells
Of the wild sea churning.

Pirate, captain and slave,
The conqueror and the conquered,
Sailor, whose ship is a grave,
Bound down and forever anchored;

Slip from your salt wet shrouds,
Rise from your endless dreaming,
Above an altar of clouds
Your resurrection is streaming.