Persistence
SKELETON schooner, looming strange on the far horizon’s rim,
Wasted and blurred by the bitter cold, all ghastly and pallid and dim,
Whither goest thou, stiff and stark? What harbor locked in the frost
Steerest thou for, through the freezing spray by the hissing breakers tossed?
Wherefore strivest thou, fighting still to plough thy perilous way
Against the might of the fierce northwest so woefully, night and day?
Turn thee and spread thy wings so white, and fly to the tropic seas,
Till the clogging ice that loads thee now dissolves in a torrid breeze;
Till the blazing sun shall melt the tar in every rope and seam;
Till thy frozen keel warm tides shall rock in a languid, lovely dream;
Till thou liest lapped in perfumes sweet in some palm-girdled bay,
Anchored in peace, to rest at last, for many a golden day.
What cheer can be in thy dreadful toil, what hope in the raging deep?
What joy from out their troubled voyage can thy worn seamen reap?
Loosen thy close-reefed canvas, then, fling wide thy pinions white,
Leap the long billows, swiftly sail into the south’s delight!
Steadfast she steers to the bitter north along the horizon’s rim,
Wasted and blurred by the cruel cold, dull, ghostly, and pallid, and dim;
For grand are the will and courage of man, and still she must keep her course,
And though she perish still must fight against nature’s terrible force.
