Classic Poem

The ship glides steadily on,
As over a sea of glass.
Birds pass—and then, birds pass:
Horizons melt in one.
The smooth broad flank of earth
Lies sleeping under the sky;
To want, is nothing worth:
To take, is worship high.

Here ships like clouds of white,
There clouds like ships that soar.
Afar the great waves smite
Some broad sun-dazzled shore:
But here like liquid light
They rest upon the floor;
For the gates of morning bright
Open, to close no more.