New Zealand Verse/The Ships
XLVI.
The Ships.
The ships sail out, and the ships sail in,
Unfolding and folding their great white sails;
These weary and eager the haven to win,
Those all-impatient to face the gales;
Some sailing away to the fairy isles,
Some sailing away to the hurricane wrack;
All sped oh their way with tears and smiles.
But which will founder! and which come back!
Unfolding and folding their great white sails;
These weary and eager the haven to win,
Those all-impatient to face the gales;
Some sailing away to the fairy isles,
Some sailing away to the hurricane wrack;
All sped oh their way with tears and smiles.
But which will founder! and which come back!
The ships sail in, and the ships sail out,
To the fate that is waiting by day and night;
Though men are fearless, and ships are stout,
Though hearts are merry, and eyes are bright,
They cannot pass where the Shadow stands,
They cannot pass, though stout and brave;
When the place is reached, they fold their hands,
And stay where the Shadow has made their grave.
To the fate that is waiting by day and night;
Though men are fearless, and ships are stout,
Though hearts are merry, and eyes are bright,
They cannot pass where the Shadow stands,
They cannot pass, though stout and brave;
When the place is reached, they fold their hands,
And stay where the Shadow has made their grave.
The ships sail out, and the ships sail in,
Passing, repassing with outspread wings;
The anchor is tripped with a merry din,
While the careless sailor a roundelay sings;
Some to arrive at the far-off shore,
Where love is waiting with hope and dread;
Some to cast anchor, no more—no more—
No more, till the sea gives up its dead!
Passing, repassing with outspread wings;
The anchor is tripped with a merry din,
While the careless sailor a roundelay sings;
Some to arrive at the far-off shore,
Where love is waiting with hope and dread;
Some to cast anchor, no more—no more—
No more, till the sea gives up its dead!
The ships sail in, and the ships sail out,
And the days go stretching away to the years;
And men are hemmed by fate about,
We smile our smiles, and weep our tears;
The ship-boy croons some sweet love song,
Thinking the while of his mother’s face!
And the ship we thought so brave and strong,
Goes down in the night and leaves no trace!
And the days go stretching away to the years;
And men are hemmed by fate about,
We smile our smiles, and weep our tears;
The ship-boy croons some sweet love song,
Thinking the while of his mother’s face!
And the ship we thought so brave and strong,
Goes down in the night and leaves no trace!
Francis Sinclair.