Poems (Blake)/Whither?
WHITHER?
Whither, O shining sails that glide All rosy bright with morning's kiss,Turning the clinging waves aside To reach some fairer world than this?
Whither, O shadowy sails that turn Beyond the sunset cold and dim,To where the stars of evening burn Above the far horizon's rim?
Flushed with the eager dawning light, Pale with the evening's mystic pall,They fade before our longing sight, And who shall say what chance may fall.
Some turn unknown of law or fate, May hide our farthest ken above,—The seeming spell of some dark hate, Or the all-guiding power of love.
For one the tempest's wrath may wait To crush life's hopes so fair, so fond;While one may pass through night's dark gate To the fair morning lands beyond!