| |
| HUNG in the parlors of the town | |
| Are many pictures of tall ships, | |
| White-billowy to their pennon-tips, | |
| And painted black or shining brown. | |
| And, seeing them, the wild thought slips | 5 |
| Back to those wild and white sea-trips | |
| When Round Pond shared the sea’s renown; | |
| |
| And all her captains sailed a fleet, | |
| Long-keeled and deep, around the Horn, | |
| Where Del Fuego lies forlorn | 10 |
| In cloudy rack or scudding sleet. | |
| On other seas of Capricorn | |
| Old voyagers knew their house-flags, borne | |
| Where Indian and Pacific meet. | |
| |
| Strong oils and wool from Boston bar, | 15 |
| Bright silks from busy blue Hong Kong— | |
| And many a little mellow gong | |
| On the shore wind, cleared for Samar | |
| And all the isles of Orient song. | |
| Oh, how the wind-clipt sails would throng! | 20 |
| Great ships—who knows now where they are? | |
| |
| The captains leave their white-walled homes | |
| Built out of earnings from far lands, | |
| But not to take their old commands | |
| Into the wind where water foams! | 25 |
| The captains leave; to helmless hands | |
| Are fallen their houses on these sands; | |
| Their old wives wither in the rooms. | |
| |
| Their children pause, with vision spent— | |
| Dear folk! they dabble, and put away | 30 |
| The majesties of yesterday. | |
| No vital pulse, no strong event, | |
| Sweeps in to break their life’s delay; | |
| The steam-boat lands, leaves them each day | |
| Contented with their discontent. | 35 |
| |
| Where is the blood that loved the sea! | |
| Though old sea-commerce be no more, | |
| Shall children of the sea on shore | |
| Sink dull with careless industry? | |
| Those painted ships bold purpose bore, | 40 |
| And what great glorious sails they wore— | |
| Pictures that shame posterity! | |
| |
