THE great ship lantern-girdled. <br />The tender standing by; <br />The waning stars cloud-shrouded, <br />The land that we descry! <br /> <br />That pale land is our homeland, <br />And we are bound therefor; <br />On her lawns nor in her coppice <br />No birds as yet make stir. <br /> <br />But birds are <br />flying round us, <br />The white birds of the sea <br />It is the breeze of morning, <br />This that comes hummingly. <br /> <br />And like the talk that comes from <br />A room where a babe is born <br />Such clearness and such mystery <br />Are in words said on the morn, <br /> <br />Where, like a nation cloven, <br />In two our ranks divide: <br />One half on the high ship's bulwark, <br />One half by the tender's side; <br /> <br />Where, like a people sundered, <br />Who yet have each other's hail, <br />Faces look down from the bulwarks, <br />And look up from the tender's rail; <br /> <br />And names are called and spoken <br />'Nancy,' 'Mary,' 'Owen'! <br />'Good-bye, and keep your promise!' <br />'Farewell to you, my son!' <br /> <br />They are more spirit-stirring <br />Than any words that are <br />Remembered from the spokesmen <br />Of any avatar! <br /> <br />'Oh, all I had to tell you!' <br />'Ellen,' 'Michael,' 'Joan'- <br />'Good-bye, and God be with you!' <br />'And can it be you're gone!' <br /> <br />The great ship lantern-girdled, <br />Her engines thresh, immerse <br />The great ship that had station <br />Takes motion for her course. <br /> <br />Her little course the tender, <br />Our little ship, goes on <br />The stars they are fast waning, <br />But we'll land ere 'tis the dawn! <br /> <br />Green, greener grows the foreland <br />Across the slate-dark sea, <br />And I'll see faces, places <br />That have been dreams to me!<br /><br />Padraic Colum<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-landing-4/
