The fishers are sailing; the fleet is away; The rowlocks are throbbing at break of day. The cables are creaking; the sails are unfurled; The red sun is over the rim of the world. The first summer hour is white on the hill; The sails in the harbour-mouth belly and fill, -- Each boat putting out with the breast of a gull For the mighty great deep that shall rock them and lull. There, there, they all pass out of sight one by one -- Gleam, dazzle, and sink in the path of the sun, -- The last tiny speck to melt out and be free As a roseleaf of cloud on the rim of the sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SONG [WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1732] by GEORGE LYTTELTON IN MEMORY: MISS JEWETT by GRACE ALLERTON ANDREWS GRANDFATHER WATTS'S PRIVATE FOURTH by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER THE HANDS THAT HANG DOWN by ADA CAMBRIDGE INTREPID FLOWERING by LOIS CANFIL LOVE'S EARLY DREAM by SARAH (STICKNEY) ELLIS |