Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, <br />Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West, <br />That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding, <br />Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest? <br />Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest, <br />When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling, <br />Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest <br />In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling. <br /> <br />I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, <br />Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air: <br />I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, <br />And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, <br />Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare: <br />Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp'd grandest <br />Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair <br />Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest. <br /> <br />And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless, <br />I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine <br />That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless, <br />Thy port assured in a happier land than mine. <br />But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine, <br />As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding, <br />From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line <br />In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.<br /><br />Robert Seymour Bridges<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-passer-by/
