from The Twelve Months
May
Who cares on the land to stay,
Wasting the wealth of a day?
The fallow fields leave
For the meadows that heave,
And away to the sea — away!
To the meadows far out on the deep,
Whose ploughs are the winds that sweep
The green furrows high,
When into the sky
The silvery foam-bells leap.
At sea! — my bark — at sea!
With the winds, and the wild clouds and me;
The low shore soon
Will be down with the moon.
And none on the waves but we!
Thy wings are abroad, my bird!
And the sound of their speed is heard;
The scud flieth west,
And the gull to her nest,
But they lag far behind us, my bird!
Who cares on the land to stay,
Wasting the wealth of a day?
The fallow fields leave
For the meadows that heave,
And away to the sea — away!
To the meadows far out on the deep,
Whose ploughs are the winds that sweep
The green furrows high,
When into the sky
The silvery foam-bells leap.
At sea! — my bark — at sea!
With the winds, and the wild clouds and me;
The low shore soon
Will be down with the moon.
And none on the waves but we!
Thy wings are abroad, my bird!
And the sound of their speed is heard;
The scud flieth west,
And the gull to her nest,
But they lag far behind us, my bird!
White as my true love's neck
Are the sails that shadow thy deck;
And thine image wan,
Like the stream-mirrored swan,
Lies dim on thy dancing track.
On! on! with a swoop and a swirl,
High over the clear waves' curl;
Under thy prow.
Like a fairy, now.
Make the blue water bubble with pearl.
Lo! yonder, my lady, the light!
'Tis the last of the land in sight!
Look once — and away!
Bows down in tbe spray;
Lighted on by the lamps of the night!
Are the sails that shadow thy deck;
And thine image wan,
Like the stream-mirrored swan,
Lies dim on thy dancing track.
On! on! with a swoop and a swirl,
High over the clear waves' curl;
Under thy prow.
Like a fairy, now.
Make the blue water bubble with pearl.
Lo! yonder, my lady, the light!
'Tis the last of the land in sight!
Look once — and away!
Bows down in tbe spray;
Lighted on by the lamps of the night!
~~
Edwin Arnold (1832-1904)
from Poems: National and non-oriental, 1906
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Johannes Christiaan Schotel (1787-1838), "Frigate", Public domain, Wikimedia Commons.
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