Goblin Market and Other Poems (1862)/Sleep at Sea
SLEEP AT SEA.
Sound the deep waters:—Who shall sound that deep?—Too short the plummet,And the watchmen sleep.Some dream of effortUp a toilsome steep;Some dream of pasture groundsFor harmless sheep.
White shapes flit to and froFrom mast to mast;They feel the distant tempestThat nears them fast: Great rocks are straight ahead,Great shoals not past;They shout to one anotherUpon the blast.
Oh, soft the streams drop musicBetween the hills,And musical the birds' nestsBeside those rills:The nests are types of homeLove-hidden from ills,The nests are types of spiritsLove-music fills.
So dream the sleepers,Each man in his place;The lightning shows the smileUpon each face:The ship is driving, driving,It drives apace: And sleepers smile, and spiritsBewail their case.
The lightning glares and reddensAcross the skies;It seems but sunsetTo those sleeping eyes.When did the sun go downOn such a wise?From such a sunsetWhen shall day arise?
"Wake," call the spirits:But to heedless ears;They have forgotten sorrowsAnd hopes and fears;They have forgotten perilsAnd smiles and tears;Their dream has held them long,Long years and years.
"Wake," call the spirits again:But it would takeA louder summonsTo bid them awake.[102]Some dream of pleasureFor another's sake;Some dream, forgetfulOf a lifelong ache.
One by one slowly,Ah, how sad and slow!Wailing and prayingThe spirits rise and go:Clear stainless spiritsWhite as white as snow;Pale spirits, wailingFor an overthrow.
One by one flitting,Like a mournful bird Whose song is tired at lastFor no mate heard.The loving voice is silent,The useless word;One by one flittingSick with hope deferred.
Driving and driving,The ship drives amain:While swift from mast to mastShapes flit again,Flit silent as the silenceWhere men lie slain;Their shadow cast upon the sailsIs like a stain.
No voice to call the sleepers,No hand to raise:They sleep to death in dreaming,Of length of days. Vanity of vanities,The Preacher says:Vanity is the endOf all their ways.