The Miracle and Other Poems by Virna Sheard
page 53 of 81 (65%)
page 53 of 81 (65%)
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And the harbour lights are dim--
See where they circle, and dip and fly, The grey free-lances of wind and sky, To the water's distant rim! Like spirits possessed of a fierce delight, A courage that cannot fail, They face the breakers--they face the night-- The mad storm-horses are silvery white, They ride through the bitter gale! They seem like the souls of the long, long lost, Who breasted the ocean-main-- Vikings whose vessels were tempest-tossed, Voyagers who sailed, whatever the cost, And never came home again. Or stranger and wilder fancy--it seems As I hear their wind-torn cry, No birds fly there through the sun's last gleams, But the wraiths of hopes--the ghosts of dreams That the old sea-gods saw die. When the mist drives past and the wind blows high, And the harbour lights are dim-- See where they circle, and dip and fly, The grey free-lances of wind and sky, To the far horizon's rim. |
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