 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
266
COMING INTO PORT.
I have weathered the turbulent cape of storms
Where the winds of passion blow;
I have sheered by the reefs that gnash to foam
The shallows they lurk below;
I have joyed in the surge of the whistling sea,
And the wild strong stress of the gale,
As my brave barque quivered and leaped, alive,
To the strain of its crowded sail.
Then the masterful spirit was on me,
And with Nature I wrestled glad;
And Danger was like a passionate bride,
And Love was itself half mad.
Then Life was a storm that blew me on,
And flew as the wild winds fly;
And Hope was a pennon streaming out
High up—to play with the sky.
Where the winds of passion blow;
I have sheered by the reefs that gnash to foam
The shallows they lurk below;
I have joyed in the surge of the whistling sea,
And the wild strong stress of the gale,
As my brave barque quivered and leaped, alive,
To the strain of its crowded sail.
Then the masterful spirit was on me,
And with Nature I wrestled glad;
And Danger was like a passionate bride,
And Love was itself half mad.
Then Life was a storm that blew me on,
And flew as the wild winds fly;
And Hope was a pennon streaming out
High up—to play with the sky.
Oh the golden days, the glorious days
That so lavish of life we spent!
Oh the dreaming nights with the silent stars
'Neath the sky's mysterious tent!
Oh the light, light heart and the strong desire
And the pulse's quickening thrill,
When Joy lived with us, and Beauty smiled,
And Youth had its free, full will!
The whole wide world was before us then,
And never our spirits failed,
And we never looked back, but onward, onward
Into the Future we sailed.
Ever before us the far horizon
Whose dim and exquisite line
Alone divided our Earth from Heaven,
Our Life from a Life divine.
That so lavish of life we spent!
Oh the dreaming nights with the silent stars
'Neath the sky's mysterious tent!
Oh the light, light heart and the strong desire
And the pulse's quickening thrill,
When Joy lived with us, and Beauty smiled,
267
The whole wide world was before us then,
And never our spirits failed,
And we never looked back, but onward, onward
Into the Future we sailed.
Ever before us the far horizon
Whose dim and exquisite line
Alone divided our Earth from Heaven,
Our Life from a Life divine.
Now my voyage is well nigh over,
And my staunchest spars are gone;
And my sails are rent, and my barnacled barque
Drags slowly and heavily on.
The faint breeze comes from the distant shore
With its odors dim and sweet,
And soon in the silent harbor of peace
Long-parted friends I shall greet.
The voyage is well nigh over,
Though at times a capful of wind
Will rattle the ropes and fill the sails,
And furrow a wake behind.
But the sea has become a weariness,
And glad into port I shall come
With my sails all furled, and my anchor dropped,
And my cargo carried home.
And my staunchest spars are gone;
And my sails are rent, and my barnacled barque
Drags slowly and heavily on.
The faint breeze comes from the distant shore
With its odors dim and sweet,
And soon in the silent harbor of peace
Long-parted friends I shall greet.
The voyage is well nigh over,
Though at times a capful of wind
Will rattle the ropes and fill the sails,
And furrow a wake behind.
But the sea has become a weariness,
And glad into port I shall come
With my sails all furled, and my anchor dropped,
And my cargo carried home.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |