I think of the ships that sail away,
The white-winged ships that sail away,
Freighted with fears and wasted tears,
And joys we gathered for long, long years,
For the possible rainy day.
I sleep, and dream of the white-winged ships
That glide from the shores of life away!
That swiftly glide with the ebbing tide,
Bearing my joys to the farther side.
Into the twilight gray.
O, ships that vanish into the past!
Are none to return to the port at last?
Shall I vainly wait at the seward gate
Beaten, and bruised, and scarred by fate,
Chilled by the winter blast?
The ships that carry my griefs--alas!
Have hulls of iron and shrouds of brass!
The storm's impact leaves them intact,
Though hurled on the jagged rocks of Fact,
Where fearful breakers mass!
