CONTINUOUS VOYAGE
At twilight, when I lean
the gunwale o'er
And watch the water
turning from the bow,
I sometimes think the
best is here and now —
The voyage all, and
nought the hidden shore.
Is there no help ? and
must we make the land ?
Shall every sailing in
some haven cease ?
And must the chain rush
out, the anchor strike the sand.
And is there from its
fetters no release ?
And shall the Steersman's
voice say, " Nevermore
The ravening gale, the
soft and sullen fog.
No more the cunning
shoal, the changeful ebb and flow.
Put up the charts, and
take the lead below,
And close the vessel's
log " ?
Adventure is a seaman's
life, the port
Calls but the weary and
the tempest driven :
Perhaps its safety were
too dearly bought
If that for this our
freedom must be given.
For lo ! our Steersman is
for ever young
And with much gladness
sails beneath the stars;
Our ship is old, yet
still her sails are hung
Like eager wings upon the
steady spars.
Then tell me not of
havens for the soul
Where tides can never
come, nor storms molest;
My sailing spirit seeks
no sheltered goal,
Nought is more sad than
safety — life is best
When every day brings
danger for delight,
And each new solemn night
Engulfs our whitening
wake within the whole.
Beyond the bent horizon
oceans are
Where every star
Lies like an isle upon
Eternity.
There would I be
Given to his rushing
wind.
No prudent course to find
For some snug corner of
Infinity;
But evermore to sail
Close-reefed before the
gale,
And see the steep
Great billow of his love,
with threatening foam,
Come roaring home
And lift my counter in
its mighty sweep.
Evelyn Underhill
1875-1941
No comments:
Post a Comment