Along the quay, the great ships, <br />that ride the swell in silence, <br />take no notice of the cradles. <br />that the hands of the women rock. <br /> <br />But the day of farewells will come, <br />when the women must weep, <br />and curious men are tempted <br />towards the horizons that lure them! <br /> <br />And that day the great ships, <br />sailing away from the diminishing port, <br />feel their bulk held back <br />by the spirits of the distant cradles.<br /><br />Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cradles/
