WHERE lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, Festively she puts forth in trim array; Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? What boots the inquiry? -- Neither friend nor foe She cares for; let her travel where she may, She finds familiar names, a beaten way Ever before her, and a wind to blow. Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark? And, almost as it was when ships were rare, (From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there Crossing the waters) doubt, and something dark, Of the old Sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE HERETIC: 1. BLASPHEMY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF ALEXANDER DUMAS by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT THE RAINY SUMMER by ALICE MEYNELL VITAI LAMPADA by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 6 by WALT WHITMAN |