The Song Of The Derelict
Ye
have
sung
me
your
songs,
ye
have
chanted
your
rimes
(I
scorn
your
beguiling,
O
sea!)
Ye
fondle
me
now,
but
to
strike
me
betimes.
(A
treacherous
lover,
the
sea!)
Once
I
saw
as
I
lay,
half-awash
in
the
night
A
hull
in
the
gloom
—
a
quick
hail
—
and
a
light
And
I
lurched
o'er
to
leeward
and
saved
her
for
spite
From
the
doom
that
ye
meted
to
me.
I
was
sister
to
`Terrible',
seventy-four,
(Yo
ho!
for
the
swing
of
the
sea!)
And
ye
sank
her
in
fathoms
a
thousand
or
more
(Alas!
for
the
might
of
the
sea!)
Ye
taunt
me
and
sing
me
her
fate
for
a
sign!
What
harm
can
ye
wreak
more
on
me
or
on
mine?
Ho
braggart!
I
care
not
for
boasting
of
thine
—
A
fig
for
the
wrath
of
the
sea!
Some
night
to
the
lee
of
the
land
I
shall
steal,
(Heigh-ho
to
be
home
from
the
sea!)
No
pilot
but
Death
at
the
rudderless
wheel,
(None
knoweth
the
harbor
as
he!)
To
lie
where
the
slow
tide
creeps
hither
and
fro
And
the
shifting
sand
laps
me
around,
for
I
know
That
my
gallant
old
crew
are
in
Port
long
ago
—
For
ever
at
peace
with
the
sea!
