University of Virginia Library

III.

He took to wandering every day,
In a listless, do-nothing, feel-nothing way,
With his gold-headed cane of Malacca wood,
But with stately step, as a gentleman should,
To the pier where his ship was wont to lie,
To gaze on the scene with a lustreless eye.
There was the spot where his vessel had come,
Her sails all furled, and her anchor “home,”
In the days when he was a sailor free,
And whatever he saw, still went to sea.
Now she was absent, and he mourned the loss of her,
Wishing in vain that his bones felt the toss of her
Rollicking heave, as she sped with her freight;
But wishes like these were all too late:
She was away with another master,
Bearing her cargo of pipes and kanaster;
Oils odoriferous, women to please,
From blossoms as fragrant as those of the South;
Big boxes of more odoriferous cheese,
Which offended the nose, but delighted the mouth;
Spice from Batavia, ingots of tin,
Rotterdam sausage, Dutch herrings, and gin.
But he had abandoned such treasures as these,
To another had given his place on the seas;
Had fled from “duff,” “salt-horse,” and such,
Abandoned bilge-water, oakum, and pitch,
Surrendered forever his trade with the Dutch,
And settled him down as a gentleman rich.
And while the world was moving through
Its business orbit, with a din,
He only, it seemed, had nothing to do,
And plenty of leisure to do it in.