The Wreck

Seared bone-white by the glare of summer weather,
Cast side-long, on the barren beach she lies,
She who once brought the earth's far ends together
And ransacked East and West for merchandise.

The sea-gulls cluster on her after-deck
Resting from the near seas that wash and fall.
But, I have heard, at night this side-cast wreck
(When all the belfry bells at midnight call)

Puts up sail and goes out past mortal seeing:
Once more the oceans break beneath her will
And she resumes the breath of her old being;
She lives the dreams that slumber in her still.

Thrilling as down the windy Dark she slopes,
Ecstatic, as her sails grow great with wind—
She feels the seamen walking with her ropes,
The harbour dropping like a star behind.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.