IDLERS

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume VII, Issue 5, 1 February 1903, Page 406

IDLERS

Idly we rock in the flood of the tide — And the ships come in from the sea — Idly we drift where the old hulks ride, For idle dreamers are we. Workers there are. On the flood of the tide The fishing boats come from the sea ; Softly the creak of derrick and crane Drifts to my brown skiff and me. Ferry-boats plying with restless life, Kissed by the evening light — We, idly drifting, far from the strife, Awaiting the ebb tide and night. Watching the sun, where, by western heights He sinks by the misty range, Kissing the boats a gold good-night, , And leaving a grey exchange Of masts, hulls, and shadowy ships, Twinkling lights and muffled sounds — Softly then an oar-blade dips, Softly then a boat-keel grounds.

Voices float from a shadowy beach — We drift to a black hulk's side ; Ah ! had this ship but gift of speech As she swings to the harbour's tide, Would she tell of the open sea, This sparless ship with voyages run ? Would she tell my boat and me Of hurricane and tropic sun ? Of idle days on windless seas, Fighting days in stormy zone, Wonder days by foreign quays, Dreaming days of seas unknown ? Idly we leave her shadowy side — Is she lonely now in tlie night ? Idly we drift with the ebbing tide — Soon she is lost to sight. A beacon light to the east away Marking a jagged reef end — Idle dreamers, night or day, For idle days we spend. No steady work like beacon light, No need to friend or foe — Idly watching, day or night, The ships that come and go. Olive Tilly.