COME down, ye graybeard mariners, Unto the wasting shore! The morning winds are up, -- the gods Bid me to dream no more. Come, tell me whither I must sail, What peril there may be, Before I take my life in hand And venture out to sea! "We may not tell thee where to sail, Nor what the dangers are; Each sailor soundeth for himself, Each hath a separate star: Each sailor soundeth for himself, And on the awful sea What we have learned is ours alone; We may not tell it thee." Come back, O ghostly mariners, Ye who have gone before! I dread the dark, impetuous tides; I dread the farther shore. Tell me the secret of the waves; Say what my fate shall be, -- Quick! for the mighty winds are up, And will not wait for me. "Hail and farewell, O voyager! Thyself must read the waves; What we have learned of sun and storm Lies with us in our graves: What we have learned of sun and storm Is ours alone to know. The winds are blowing out to sea, Take up thy life and go!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONGFELLOW by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 11 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WHAT MAKES A NATION GREAT? by ALEXANDER BLACKBURN THE BLACK FOX OF SALMON RIVER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD I BLOW YOU A KISS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE WANDERER: 4. IN SWITZERLAND: A QUIET MOMEMENT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |