Poems (Kennedy)/Wanderlust
WANDERLUST
THEY have all flown safe to the harbor's keep, Like frightened birds of the sea—The big, brave ships with their world-sought freight And the fishers' argosy.For the demon wind runs a free, mad race O'er the waste of waters wideAnd the harbor-bar is white with foam Of the hungry, tattered tide.
They bent each oar and they filled each sail In the run with wind and rain,Yet now they labor and struggle and strive At each anchor's grating chain,Straining as though they would fain go back Where the whipping white sprays fall,Where the sea things mock, and full and shrill The horns of the Tritons call.
And there are hearts all over the world That are bound like anchored ships;And though like these they struggle and strain, Yet never a cable slips;And never a sail is set to the breeze, And never may hope aspireTo waft them over the harbor's rim To a land of New Desire.
They are stranded fast in shallows of fate Where only the curlews cry, While far beyond in the marts of men The quest of the world goes by.'Mid the deadening calm they long for stress, For bugles, for banners unfurled;They'd slip their anchors today if they could To sail the ports of the world!