STRANDED.

O busy ships! that smile in sailing

In a glory

Like a dream,

From the colors of the harbor to the colors of the sea.

In singing words or in bewailing,

Tell the story

As you gleam,

Tell the story, guess the language of my idle hours for me.

O busy waves! so blest in bruising

Your white faces

On the shore.

So happy to be wasted with the purpose of the sea,

Content to leave with it the choosing

Of your places

Evermore,

Whisper but the far sea-meaning of my stranded life for me.

Gray the sails grow in departing

Like fleet swallows

To the South.

Stern the tide turns in its parting,

As it follows

With dumb mouth.

In the stillness and the sternness God makes answer unto me.