Will Sail Tomorrow

THE good ship lies in the crowded dock, Fair as a statue, firm as a rock: Her tall masts piercing the still blue air, Her funnel glittering white and bare, Whence the long soft line of vapory smoke Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke, Or slowly o'er the horizon curled Like a lost hope fled to the other world: She sails to-morrow,-- Sails to-morrow. Out steps the captain, busy and grave, With his sailor's footfall, quick and brave, His hundred thoughts and his thousand cares, And his steady eye that all things dares: Though a little smile o'er the kind face dawns On the loving brute that leaps and fawns, And a little shadow comes and goes, As if heart and fancy fled--where, who knows: He sails to-morrow: Sails to-morrow. To-morrow the serried line of ships Will quick close after her as she slips Into the unknown deep once more: To-morrow, to-morrow, some on shore With straining eyes shall desperate yearn-- 'This is not parting? return--return!' Peace, wild-wrung hands! hush, sobbing breath! Love keepeth its own through life and death; Though she sails to-morrow-- Sails to-morrow. Sail, stately ship; down Southampton water Gliding fair as old Nereus' daughter: Christian ship that for burthen bears Christians, speeded by Christian prayers; All kinds of angels follow her track! Pitiful God, bring the good ship back! All the souls in her forever keep Thine, living or dying, awake or asleep: Then sail to-morrow! Ship, sail to-morrow!