The shadows of the ships
Rock on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.
A long brown bar at the dip of the sky
Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.
The lucid and endless wrinkles
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach.
Rocking on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Are the shadows of the ships.
I WAS shipmate with Sorrow in a day gone by;
We shared wheel and look-out, old Sorrow and I;
Good times and bad times, foul weather and fair,
The old grey face of him was always there.
There was never chanty raised there, never song I heard.
But his voice would be in it like a crying bird ;
I was dull in the dog watches, when the laugh went free.
Because of old Sorrow sitting down by me.
I thought I could lose him in the stir and change
Of bright, wicked cities, all sunlit and strange ;
There came a hand at my elbow and a voice in my ear —
It was old patient Sorrow saying: "Lad, I'm here!"
And by the bustling harbour, up the busy street.
Many a time I see him, many a time I meet
It isn't the Sea that I love,
But the ships
That must dare and endure and defy and survive it!
It isn't the flesh that I love,
But the spirit
That guides and derides and controls and outlives it!
It isn't this earth that I love,
But the mortals
Who give to it meaning and colour and passion and life!
For what is the Sea without ships?
And what is the flesh without soul?
And what is a world without love?
The sea that I watch from my window
Is grey and white;
I see it toss in the darkness
All the night.
My soul swoops down to sorrow
As the sea-gulls dip,
And all my love flies after
Your lonely ship.
Yet I am not despairing
Though we must part,
Nothing can be too bitter
For my high heart.
All in the dreary midnight,
Watching the flying foam,
I wait for the golden morning
When you come home.