Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FLYING FISH: AN ODE, by CHARLES WHARTON STORK Poet's Biography First Line: Low lies bermuda on our starboard bow Last Line: The ship drives on; bermuda looms ahead. Subject(s): Fish & Fishing; Sea; Sea Gulls; Ocean | ||||||||
Low lies Bermuda on our starboard bow, The morning's hue is misty like a pearl's. As lightly through the severing swells we plough, To right and left the widening foam-wedge curls. I stand and watch alone: No slanting sail, no black and stalwart hull, Not even one stray gull To fleck the languid ocean's monotone; Nothing but sky and sea And, vague with mystery, Yon distant island, fairy-like, unknown. But what is that? Scarce fifty yards away A flock of birds where bird before was none, Skimming across the smooth unlustrous gray On wings that glint so oddly in the sun! No sooner seen than lost, Melted like scudding snow-flakes as they touch The surface, not so much As one black bobbing head of all that host. Yet see! once more they rise And, like strange dragonflies, Along our bow-flung breakers deftly coast. I know you now, ye birds that may not soar, Ye flashers in two elements. Your flight So low, so little veering, and the four Short filmy wings that, quivering, catch the light, -- These told me what you were. Audacious truants from your parent sea, Half-fabulous are ye Oh flying-fish, oh sylph-like beings rare, That, heedless quite of earth, Spring toward a nobler berth From the dim waters to the radiant air! How must it be to swim among your kind, Dull with the cold and dreary with the dark, Enclosed above, beneath, before, behind In green uncertainty, from which a shark At any time may dash And doom you like some huge demonic fate With lust insatiate? -- His fins and tail the swirling waters lash. What use to dart aside? Those great jaws, grinning wide; Will close your frolic as the long teeth clash. But have I then forgot? The bonds that hold The others of your race are loosed for you, For you alone. The silver dolphin bold Curves like a spray-haired comet from the blue, But may not poise or flit As you do --. What if but a minute's space? Hardly a longer grace Has poet, saint or lover. Nor a whit Less sure to sink are we; Our wings of ecstasy No loftier, no longer joy permit. Yet joy it is! to scorn the dread of death, To dwell for shining moments in the sun Of Beauty and sweet Love, to drink one breath Of a diviner element -- though but one; To reach a higher state Of being, to explore a new domain; To leap, and leap again, Unheeding the dark Presence that doth wait And follow till we fall: For -- fishes, men and all -- The grim old Shark will have us, soon or late. Then tell me, comrades, does your little flight Thrill with the foretaste of a life to be? Is your ethereal revel in the light The promise of some fair eternity; Where you may roam at will, Safe from the terror of the world you knew, On wings of rainbow hue? -- How vain to question! I may ask my fill. One life is all you wish; You fly, and are but fish; Your gift, a trick of blind instinctive skill. And I who ask, -- have I a certain sign That these poor flights (which seemingly exalt My soul into an element more fine) Prove me immortal? Reason stops, at fault. But still by hope I'm led; And I'll but hope the more, if hope be all, Nor shall e'en Death appall! I start and look: the flying-fish have fled; Have got them to their kind, Or tamely dropped behind. The ship drives on; Bermuda looms ahead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE FIGUREHEAD by LEONIE ADAMS A DIVER by CHARLES WHARTON STORK |
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