Classic Poem

Put off thy bark from shore, though near the night,
And leaving home and friends and hope behind,
Sail down the lights. Thou scarce canst fail to find,
O desolate one, the morning breaking white,
Some shore of rest beyond the laboring wave.
Ah, 'tis for this I mourn: too long I have
Wandered in tears along life's stormy way
Where day to day no haven or hope reveals.
Yet on the bound my weary sight I keep
As one who sails, a landsman on the deep,
And longing for the land, day after day
Sees the horizon rise and fall and feels
His heart die out, still riding restlessly
Between the sailing cloud and the seasick sea.