THE BALLAD OF SHIPS IN HARBOR

Clatter of shears and derrick,

Rattle of box and bale,

The ships of the earth are at their docks,

Back from the world-round trail—

Back from the wild waste northward,

Back from the wind and the lea,

Back from the ports of East and West,

Back from the under sea.

Here is a bark from Rio,

Back—and away she steals!

Here, from her trip, is a clipper ship

That showed the sea her heels—

South to the Gallapagos,

Down, due south, to the Horn,

And up, by the Windward Passage way,

On the breath of the balm-wind borne.

There, standing down the channel,

With a smoke wake o'er her rail,

Is a ship that goes to Zanzibar

Along the world-round trail,

'Ere seven suns have kissed her

She may pound on Quoddy Head—

A surf-tossed speck of melting wreck,

Deep-freighted with her dead.

And see that gaunt Norwegian,

Greasy, grimy and black—

She sails today for Yeddo Bay;

Who knows but she comes not back?

And there is a low decked Briton,

And yonder a white-winged Dane—

Oh, a song for the ships that put to sea

And come not back again!

Clatter of shears and derrick,

Rattle of box and bale,

The ships of the earth are home today,

Tomorrow they shall sail;

Cleared for the dawn and the sunset,

Cleared for the wind and the lea;

World-round and back, by the olden track—

Playthings of the sea.