The Fleets of Infinity

On the Ocean of Space no thundrous wave is,
And there, through immense remoteness lighted,
Ride as of old the heavenly Navies,
Under what High Command united?

With course unchanging, with speed unfailing,
Mid countless squadrons that know not slumber,
The Earth o'er abysmal Deeps is sailing,
With tackle and gear, with coil and cumber.

Who doth forbid her to rest or tarry?
And whence evermore — from what veiled habitation —
Beholds He the souls her decks do carry
In ceaseless voyage about Creation?

And what if blind Storm, amid far-off morrows,
Convulse the vast Ocean whereon she is steering,
And leave her to founder — with blisses and sorrows
And all her cargo, like dreams, disappearing?
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