The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.
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Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
read more
Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out
trail,
We're sagging south on the Long Trail, the trail that is always
new.
And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.
And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.
Where lies the land, to which the ship would go?Far, far ahead is all, her seamen know.And where the land read more
Where lies the land, to which the ship would go?Far, far ahead is all, her seamen know.And where the land she travels from?Away, far far behind, is all that they can say.
Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being
drowned.
Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being
drowned.
The wooden wall alone should remain unconquered.
The wooden wall alone should remain unconquered.
Like watermen who look astern while they row the boat ahead.
Like watermen who look astern while they row the boat ahead.
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.
We lie and listen to the hissing waves,
Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel,
Which on read more
We lie and listen to the hissing waves,
Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel,
Which on the sea's face all unthankful graves
An arrowed scratch as with a tool of steel.
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it read more
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always steam,
From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see thy Hand, O God--
Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.
