Mere pin points on the horizon On the lap of the god of mist, Sails shining like the flap of fins, Bearing their cargo of grist. Into great mounds of terraced jade They plunge full speed with their load, Plowing the sea lanes mightily To vision . . . A war torn road. These sails gleamed as they shoved away, Strangely white beneath the sun, Turning to copper, smoked, then gray, Red sails when the journey's done! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD IF HE SHOULD COME by EDWIN MARKHAM BRUTUS LIVES AGAIN IN BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE VILLAGE ATHEIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE FOUNTAIN (2) by SARA TEASDALE |