A LITTLE sheaf of words I speed Across the storm-vext wintry wave, Not knowing if 'twill float, indeed, Or find in grisly depths a grave. Tossed, on the vast Atlantic deep It ventures; icebergs from the north Assail it, blinding sea-mists creep -- Through all it flies undaunted forth. The strong ship heels beneath the blast, The giant engines throb and thrill, That mighty heart beats fiercely still Till the long enterprise is past. And with it done, the little scroll This hand has written, from the sea Is born, with some faint trace of me, A child begotten of the soul. Then if at length some joy it give To souls by life's great load opprest, Cheer some poor fainting heart to live, Or bring some weary traveller rest, More than the meed of gold or fame Or honour to my soul it brings, For now it speaks with lips of flame, And lifted on celestial wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARASITICS: TO CERTAIN POETS by CONRAD AIKEN PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE GREAT RACE PASSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 4. DIFFERENCE OF OPINION WITH LYGDAMUS by EZRA POUND |