THE vessel that rests here at last Had once stout ribs and topping mast, And, whate'er wind there might prevail, Was ready for a row or sail. It now lies idle on its side, Forgetful o'er the stream to glide. And yet there have been days of yore, When pretty maids their posies bore To crown its prow, its deck to trim, And freighted a whole world of whim. A thousand stories it could tell, But it loves secrecy too well. Come closer, my sweet girl, pray do! There may be still one left for you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOYS OF THE ROAD by BLISS CARMAN ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE JOAN OF ARC IN RHEIMS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE ON A BUST OF DANTE by THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS |