WHERE lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? <br />Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, <br />Festively she puts forth in trim array; <br />Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? <br />What boots the inquiry?--Neither friend nor foe <br />She cares for; let her travel where she may, <br />She finds familiar names, a beaten way <br />Ever before her, and a wind to blow. <br />Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark? <br />And, almost as it was when ships were rare, <br />(From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there <br />Crossing the waters) doubt, and something dark, <br />Of the old Sea some reverential fear, <br />Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark!<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-lies-the-land-to-which-yon-ship-must-go/
