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 wide
And the harbor-bar is white with foam
Of the hungry, tattered tide.
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 wide
And 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.
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 1s set to the breeze,
And never may hope aspire
To waft them over the harbor's rim
To a land of New Desire.
That are bound like anchored ships;
And though like these they struggle and strain,
Yet never a cable slips;
And never a sail 1s set to the breeze,
And never may hope aspire
To 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!
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!