SOMETIMES, full-sailed like thought, a great ship Journeying with the sun, sets out to sea. Westward before the wind magnificently She rides, high prow with shining spray a-drip. Then noon, the wind slacks, as a closed lip Is mute. No longer shrouds hold song in fee, The canvas waits to fill, the boom hangs free, Uncertain, swayed in weird, presageful grip. Moaning, the wind rocks and cries for peace: Too well it knows the outrage of its power -- Chaos of dark, chaos of hissing breath, The prayers, the broken spar, the waves' increase, The gaping decks swept clear, -- the final hour When a great ship rides battling down to death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ESSAY: AT NIGHT THE AUTOPORTRAIT AT NIGHT by ELENI SIKELIANOS A PROBLEM IN AESTHETICS by KAREN SWENSON EVE SPEAKS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIENDS FOR OLD FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |