A Cry from the Shore.
Come down, ye gray-beard mariners, Unto the wasting shore ! The morning winds are up—the gods Bid me to dream no more. Come, tell me whither I must sail, What peril thci'C must be, Before T take my life in hand And venture out to sea ! We may not tell thee where to sail, Nor what the dangers are ; Bach sailor soundeth for himself, Each hath a separate star : Each sailor soundeth for himself, And on the awful sea What we have learned is ours alone ; We may not tell it thee. Come back> O ghostly mariners, Ye who have gone before! I dread the dark, impetuous tides ; I dread the farther shore. Tell me the secret of the waves; Say what my fate shall be — Quick! for the mighty winds are np, And will not wait for me. Hail and farewell* O voyager ! Thyself must read the waves ; What we have learned of sun and storm Lies with us in our graves ; What we hare learned of sun and storm Is ours alone to know. The winds are blowing out to sea, Take up thy life and go !
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Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1621, 24 April 1875, Page 6 (Supplement)
Word Count
193A Cry from the Shore. Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1621, 24 April 1875, Page 6 (Supplement)
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