Classic Poem

“WILL SAIL TOMMOROW.”

The, good ship lies in the crowded dock,
Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:
Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,
Her funnel glittering white and bare,
Whence the long soft line of vapoury smoke
Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke,
Or slowly o'er the horizon curl'd
Like a lost hope fled to the other world:
She sails to-morrow—
Sails to-morrow.
Out steps the captain, busy and grave,
With his sailor's footfall, quick and brave,
His hundred thoughts and his thousand cares,
And his steady eye that all things dares:
Though a little smile o'er the kind face dawns
On the loving brute that leaps and fawns,
And a little shadow comes and goes,
As if heart or fancy fled - where, who knows?
He sails to-morrow: Sails to-morrow.
To-morrow the serried line of ships
Will quick close after her as she slips
Into the unknown deep once more:
To-morrow, to-morrow, some on shore
With straining eyes shall desperate yearn—
“‘This is not parting? return - return! Peace, wild-wrung hands! hush, sobbing breath
I Love keepeth its own through life and death! Though she sails to-morrow
Sails to-morrow. Sail, stately ship; down Southampton water
Gliding fair as old Nereus' daughter:
Christian ship that for burthen bears
Christians, speeded by Christian prayers
All kind angels follow her track!
Pitiful God, bring the good ship back!
All the souls in her for ever keep
Thine, living or dying, awake or asleep”
Then sail to-morrow!
Ship, sail to-morrow!