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MY SHIP.
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MY SHIP.
OWN to the wharves, as the sun goes down,And the daylight's tumult and dust and din
Are dying away in the busy town,
I go to see if my ship comes in.
I gaze far over the quiet sea,
Rosy with sunset, like mellow wine,
Where ships, like lilies, lie tranquilly,
Many and fair,—but I see not mine.
Rosy with sunset, like mellow wine,
Where ships, like lilies, lie tranquilly,
Many and fair,—but I see not mine.
I question the sailors every night
Who over the bulwarks idly lean,
Noting the sails as they come in sight,—
"Have you seen my beautiful ship come in?"
Who over the bulwarks idly lean,
Noting the sails as they come in sight,—
"Have you seen my beautiful ship come in?"
"Whence does she come?" they ask of me;
"Who is her master, and what her name?"
And they smile upon me pityingly
When my answer is ever and ever the same.
"Who is her master, and what her name?"
And they smile upon me pityingly
When my answer is ever and ever the same.
