A single sail a blaze of white
through haze on a pale blue sea!
What does it seek on a far-off shore?
What’s left at the harbour quay?
Wind shrills, waves in a reel,
The masthead creeks and sways…
Alas, no course for happiness,
Nor flight from that, alas!
Below, a stream of sapphire light,
With sun’s gold light on the helm…
Unruly, though, it invites the storm,
as if the storm brought calm!