 | Sursum Corda |  |
67
AN OLD BOAT.
I passed a boat to-day on the shore
That will be rowed on the sea no more.
That will be rowed on the sea no more.
Worn and battered, the straight keel bent,
The side, like a ruined rampart, rent.
The side, like a ruined rampart, rent.
Left alone, with no covering,
For who would steal such a useless thing?
For who would steal such a useless thing?
It was shapely once, when the shipwright's hand
Had laid each plank as the master planned.
Had laid each plank as the master planned.
And it danced for joy on the curling wave,
When first the sea's broad breast it clave.
When first the sea's broad breast it clave.
And it leapt to the pulse of the well-timed stroke,
That rang on the thole-pin of tuneful oak.
That rang on the thole-pin of tuneful oak.
68
Oft it has carried home the spoil
Of fishers, tired with night-long toil.
Of fishers, tired with night-long toil.
And often on summer days it knew
The laugh of a pleasure-seeking crew.
The laugh of a pleasure-seeking crew.
Or, launched by night on the blinding waves,
It has rescued a life from the sea's dark graves.
It has rescued a life from the sea's dark graves.
It is useless now as it lies on the beach,
Drawn high beyond the billows' reach.
Drawn high beyond the billows' reach.
And none of all it has served in stress
Remember it now in its loneliness.
Remember it now in its loneliness.
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