How well the brittle boat doth personate Man's frail estate! whose concave, fill'd with lightsome air, did scorn The prodest storm. Man's fleshy boat bears up; whilst breath doth last, He fears no blast. Poor floating bark, whilst on yon mount you stood, Rain was your food: Now the same moisture, which once made thee grow, Doth thee o'erflow. Rash youth hath too much sail; his giddy path No ballast hath; He thinks his keel of wit can cut all waves, And pass those graves; Can shoot all cataracts, and safely steer The fourscorth year. But stoop thine ear, ill-counsell'd youth, and hark, Look on this bark. His emblem, whom it carried, both defied Storms, yet soon died; Only this difference, that sunk downward, this Weigh'd up to bliss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LOVE COULD WALK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING AN ENGLISH MOTHER by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON SONNET: 27 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL STONEWALL JACKSON; MORTALLY WOUNDED AT CHANCELLORSVILLE by HERMAN MELVILLE |