Wind of the dead men's feet, <br />Blow down the empty street <br />Of this old city by the sea <br />With news for me! <br />Blow me beyond the grime <br />And pestilence of time! <br />I am too sick at heart to war <br />With failure any more. <br />Thy chill is in my bones; <br />The moonlight on the stones <br />Is pale, and palpable, and cold; <br />I am as one grown old. <br /> <br />I call from room to room <br />Through the deserted gloom; <br />The echoes are all words I know, <br />Lost in some long ago. <br /> <br />I prowl from door to door, <br />And find no comrade more. <br />The wolfish fear that children feel <br />Is snuffing at my heel. <br /> <br />I hear the hollow sound <br />Of a great ship coming round, <br />The thunder of tackle and the tread <br />Of sailors overhead. <br /> <br />That stormy-blown hulloo <br />Has orders for me, too. <br />I see thee, hand at mouth, and hark, <br />My captain of the dark. <br /> <br />O wind of the great East, <br />By whom we are released <br />From this strange dusty port to sail <br />Beyond our fellows' hail, <br /> <br />Under the stars that keep <br />The entry of the deep, <br />Thy somber voice brings up the sea's <br />Forgotten melodies; <br /> <br />And I have no more need <br />Of bread, or wine, or creed, <br />Bound for the colonies of time <br />Beyond the farthest prime. <br /> <br />Wind of the dead men's feet, <br />Blow through the empty street; <br />The last adventurer am I, <br />Then, world, goodby!<br /><br />Bliss William Carman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-before-sailing-2/
