Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/413

What does she see when her steadfast eyes
Peer into the sunset mysteries,
And all the secrets of time and space
Seem unfolded before her face?
What does she hear when, pale and calm,
She lists for the great sea's evening psalm?

Speak, Lady, speak! Thy sealéd lip,
Thou fair white spirit of the ship,
Could tell such tales of high emprise,
Of valorous deeds and counsels wise!
What prince shall rouse thee from thy trance,
And meet thy first revealing glance,
Or what Pygmalion from her sleep
Bid Galatea wake and weep?
The wave's wild passion stirs thee not—
Oh, is thy life's long love forgot?

How canst thou bear this trancèd calm
By sunlit isles of bloom and balm—
Thou who hast sailed the utmost seas,
Empress alike of wave and breeze;
Thou who hast swept from pole to pole,
Where the great surges swell and roll;
Breasted the billows white with wrath,
Rode in the tempest's fiery path,
And proudly borne to waiting hands
The glorious spoil of farthest lands?

How canst thou bear this silence, deep
And tranquil as an infant's sleep—
Thou who hast heard above thy head
The white sails sing with wings outspread;
Thou whose strong soul has thrilled to feel
The swift rush of the ploughing keel,