Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape, <br />Rain whitens the dead sea, <br />From headland dim to sullen cape <br />Grey sails creep wearily. <br />I know not how that merchantman <br />Has found the heart; but 'tis her plan <br />Seaward her endless course to shape. <br /> <br />Unreal as insects that appall <br />A drunkard's peevish brain, <br />O'er the grey deep the dories crawl, <br />Four-legged, with rowers twain: <br />Midgets and minims of the earth, <br />Across old ocean's vasty girth <br />Toiling--heroic, comical! <br /> <br />I wonder how that merchant's crew <br />Have ever found the will! <br />I wonder what the fishers do <br />To keep them toiling still! <br />I wonder how the heart of man <br />Has patience to live out its span, <br />Or wait until its dreams come true.<br /><br />William Vaughn Moody<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-grey-day/
