Classic Poem

The gorse is on the granite,
The light is growing clear,
Our tilted, tacking planet
Has another course to steer:
Without a wind to fill her
She can hold upon the tack.
The Captain's lashed the tiller
So we dance upon the deck.

Some ships go by a motor,
And some by sails and spars,
But our ship is a rotor
And she rolls among the stars
And has no fear of crashing:
Without a spyglass even
You can see the signals flashing
From the light-houses of Heaven.

Our vessel in her sailing
Just nods and bowls along,
And half her crew are ailing
And half are growing strong;
And some make strange grimaces
At us who dance and shout:
The news from outer spaces
Depends on who looks out.

Some ships by island spices
Are scented as they run
Or through ice precipices
Behold the midnight sun;
And these go home to haven
For they are trading ships,
But we are touring Heaven
And we tour in an ellipse.

We do not fear commotions
Or anything untoward
From rocks or winds or oceans,
We have them all on board
With sea-room all prevailing
For a never-ending trip;
Was there ever such a sailing?
Was there ever such a ship?

We have not once been harboured
Since first we left the slips;
We see to port and starboard
Brave bright companion ships,
And they go with us roundly;
But we in hammocks rocked
Shall be sleeping very soundly
Before our ship is docked.

She leaves no wake behind her,
No foam before her foot
Because the gods designed her
A rainbow-rolling boat.
We only know she's rolling
And all the more we sing
Because just now we're bowling
And rolling into Spring.

No questions can prevail on
The Master of the Ship;
He won't say why we sail on
This never-ending trip:
Though young and old and ailing
Hold contradictory views
I think that simply sailing
Is the meaning of the cruise.