Away, away she plunges, <br /> With her white sails o’er her spread, <br />Like the sheety clouds that gather <br /> On some great hill’s piny head. <br />Still away she plunges rampant, <br /> Like a lion roused to wrath, <br />And the late proud wave lies humbled <br /> In the foam-track of her path. <br />“Yet ho! My gallant sailors, <br /> Wear her head from off the land! <br />As his steed obeys the Arab, <br /> How she feels the steering hand! <br />And the deep in her wide dwelling, <br /> Her wild spouse the gipsy wind; <br />Like a soul from earth departing, <br /> So she leaves the coast behind. <br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br />Charles Harpur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/outward-bound-2/
