 | St. Augustine's Holiday and Other Poems |  |
145
ADRIFT ON THE ARCTIC SEA.
I see a ship adrift upon the tide,
Methinks she maketh past King William's Land;
The stars are glimmering through her rifted side,
Her mast is like a giant's broken wand.
Methinks she maketh past King William's Land;
The stars are glimmering through her rifted side,
Her mast is like a giant's broken wand.
What, is there no one standing at the wheel?
An awful ship indeed without a stir;
Yet through the icebergs steers the rolling keel,
Like death's pale horses panting after her.
An awful ship indeed without a stir;
Yet through the icebergs steers the rolling keel,
Like death's pale horses panting after her.
Well done, O silent ship! the bar is past,
The icy battlement left upon the lee;
Why doth no gallant sailor climb the mast
To view the glory of that iceless sea?
The icy battlement left upon the lee;
Why doth no gallant sailor climb the mast
To view the glory of that iceless sea?
O silent ship and crew! the starriest crown
Of all earth's mariners your deed hath won;
But lo! the ship first reels, and then goes down,
And with her all her crew—a skeleton.
Of all earth's mariners your deed hath won;
But lo! the ship first reels, and then goes down,
And with her all her crew—a skeleton.
So when some thinker wins the prize of thought,
And his keel cuts the just-discover'd wave,
Down with him goes the work that he has wrought—
He finds at once a passage and a grave.
And his keel cuts the just-discover'd wave,
Down with him goes the work that he has wrought—
He finds at once a passage and a grave.
| St. Augustine's Holiday and Other Poems | |