The Derelict.
North and south with the fickle tides, With the wind from east to west, The death-ship follows her track of doom, But finds no port or rest. Day after day the far white sails Come up and glimmer and die, And night by night the twinkling lights Crawl down the distant sky. Day after day her black hull lifts And sinks with the swell's long roll, And the white birds cling to her rotting shrouds Like prayers of a stricken soul, But ever the death-ship keeps her track While the ships of men sail on, For God is her skipper and helmsman, too, And knoweth her port alone.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"North and south with the fickle tides,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Charles Hamilton Musgrove delivers a powerful performance in "The Derelict."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...