Without rudder, without sail Drifts my soul, the brig @3Disaster,@1 And the madness of the gale Takes the place of mate or master! Covered is its ghostly keel With sea-slime, sea-weed, sea-crust; And its bulkheads groan and reel; And its bolts are caked with rust. Storm-tossed sea-gulls phantom-white On the spars of the @3Disaster@1 Scream while the great winds of night Drive the derelict still faster. And the drowned men floating deep Leagues beneath that churning sea, Mutter in their careless sleep, "The brig @3Disaster@1 goes merrily!" And the brig @3Disaster@1 drives right on, Without captain, without mate, Top-sails, bowsprit, compass gone, Lost -- exultant, desolate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 27 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN' by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR RIDDLE: MAN, STOOL, DOG by MOTHER GOOSE A VISION UPON [THIS CONCEIT] OF THE FAERIE QUEENE (2) by WALTER RALEIGH BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE COR CORDIUM by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |