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1893
KING SOLOMON drew merchantmen, | |
| Because of his desire | |
| For peacocks, apes, and ivory, | |
| From Tarshish unto Tyre, | |
| With cedars out of Lebanon | 5 |
| Which Hiram rafted down, | |
| But we be only sailormen | |
| That use in London town. | |
| |
| Coastwise—cross-seas—round the world and back again— | |
| Where the flaw shall head us or the full Trade suits— | 10 |
| Plain-sail—storm-sail—lay your board and tack again— | |
| And that’s the way we’ll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots! | |
| |
| We bring no store of ingots, | |
| Of spice or precious stones, | |
| But what we have we gathered | 15 |
| With sweat and aching bones: | |
| In flame beneath the tropics, | |
| In frost upon the floe, | |
| And jeopardy of every wind | |
| That does between them go. | 20 |
| |
| And some we got by purchase, | |
| And some we had by trade, | |
| And some we found by courtesy | |
| Of pike and carronade— | |
| At midnight, ’mid-sea meetings, | 25 |
| For charity to keep, | |
| And light the rolling homeward-bound | |
| That rode a foot too deep! | |
| |
| By sport of bitter weather | |
| We’re walty, strained, and scarred | 30 |
| From the kentledge on the kelson | |
| To the slings upon the yard. | |
| Six oceans had their will of us | |
| To carry all away— | |
| Our galley’s in the Baltic, | 35 |
| And our boom’s in Mossel Bay! | |
| |
| We’ve floundered off the Texel, | |
| Awash with sodden deals, | |
| We’ve slipped from Valparaiso | |
| With the Norther at our heels: | 40 |
| We’ve ratched beyond the Crossets | |
| That tusk the Southern Pole, | |
| And dipped our gunnels under | |
| To the dread Agulhas roll. | |
| |
| Beyond all outer charting | 45 |
| We sailed where none have sailed, | |
| And saw the land-lights burning | |
| On islands none have hailed; | |
| Our hair stood up for wonder, | |
| But, when the night was done, | 50 |
| There danced the deep to windward | |
| Blue-empty ’neath the sun! | |
| |
| Strange consorts rode beside us | |
| And brought us evil luck; | |
| The witch-fire climbed our channels, | 55 |
| And flared on vane and truck: | |
| Till, through the red tornado, | |
| That lashed us nigh to blind, | |
| We saw The Dutchman plunging, | |
| Full canvas, head to wind! | 60 |
| |
| We’ve heard the Midnight Leadsman | |
| That calls the black deep down— | |
| Ay, thrice we’ve heard The Swimmer, | |
| The Thing that may not drown. | |
| On frozen bunt and gasket | 65 |
| The sleet-cloud drave her hosts, | |
| When, manned by more than signed with us | |
| We passed the Isle of Ghosts! | |
| |
| And north, amid the hummocks, | |
| A biscuit-toss below, | 70 |
| We met the silent shallop | |
| That frighted whalers know; | |
| For, down a cruel ice-lane, | |
| That opened as he sped, | |
| We saw dead Hendrick Hudson | 75 |
| Steer, North by West, his dead. | |
| |
| So dealt God’s waters with us | |
| Beneath the roaring skies, | |
| So walked His signs and marvels | |
| All naked to our eyes: | 80 |
| But we were heading homeward | |
| With trade to lose or make— | |
| Good Lord, they slipped behind us | |
| In the tailing of our wake! | |
| |
| Let go, let go the anchors; | 85 |
| Now shamed at heart are we | |
| To bring so poor a cargo home | |
| That had for gift the sea! | |
| Let go the great bow-anchor— | |
| Ah, fools were we and blind— | 90 |
| The worst we stored with utter toil, | |
| The best we left behind! | |
| |
| Coastwise—cross-seas—round the world and back again, | |
| Whither flaw shall fail us or the Trades drive down: | |
| Plain-sail—storm-sail—lay your board and tack again— | 95 |
| And all to bring a cargo up to London Town! | |
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