"Will Sail Tomorrow"

THE good ship lies in the crowded dock,

Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:

Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,

Her funnel glittering white and bare,

Whence the long soft line of vapory smoke

Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke,

Or slowly o'er the horizon curled

Like a lost hope fled to the other world:

She sails to-morrow,--

Sails to-morrow.

Out steps the captain, busy and grave,

With his sailor's footfall, quick and brave,

His hundred thoughts and his thousand cares,

And his steady eye that all things dares:

Though a little smile o'er the kind face dawns

On the loving brute that leaps and fawns,

And a little shadow comes and goes,

As if heart and fancy fled--where, who knows:

He sails to-morrow:

Sails to-morrow.

To-morrow the serried line of ships

Will quick close after her as she slips

Into the unknown deep once more:

To-morrow, to-morrow, some on shore

With straining eyes shall desperate yearn--

"This is not parting? return--return!"

Peace, wild-wrung hands! hush, sobbing breath!

Love keepeth its own through life and death;

Though she sails to-morrow--

Sails to-morrow.

Sail, stately ship; down Southampton water

Gliding fair as old Nereus' daughter:

Christian ship that for burthen bears

Christians, speeded by Christian prayers;

All kinds of angels follow her track!

Pitiful God, bring the good ship back!

All the souls in her forever keep

Thine, living or dying, awake or asleep:

Then sail to-morrow!

Ship, sail to-morrow!