4
THE TRAIL FROM THE SEA
Have done with tides and passions, tides and mysteries for a season.
Have done with infinite yearnings cast adrift on infinite vagueness—
With never a certain sail, never a rudder sure for guidance,
With never a compass-needle free of desire.
Have done with infinite yearnings cast adrift on infinite vagueness—
With never a certain sail, never a rudder sure for guidance,
With never a compass-needle free of desire.
For the ways of earth are good, as well as sea-ways,
The peaks of it as well as ports unknown.
Not only perils matter, stormy perils, over the pathless,
Not only the shoals that sink your ship of dreams.
Not only the phantom lure of far horizons,
Not only the windy guess at the goals of God.
The peaks of it as well as ports unknown.
Not only perils matter, stormy perils, over the pathless,
Not only the shoals that sink your ship of dreams.
Not only the phantom lure of far horizons,
Not only the windy guess at the goals of God.
But morning matters, and dew upon the rose,
And noon, shadowless noon, and simple sheep on the pastures straying.
And noon, shadowless noon, and simple sheep on the pastures straying.
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