Where Lies The Land To Which Yon Ship Must Go?

Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?
Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day,
Festively she puts forth in trim array;
Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow?
What boots the inquiry? Neither friend nor foe
She cares for; let her travel where she may,
She finds familiar names, a beaten way
Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark?
And, almost as it was when ships were rare,
(From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there
Crossing the waters) doubt, and something dark,
Of the old Sea some reverential fear,
Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark!

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was a major English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication 'Lyrical Ballads' in 1798. Born on April 7, 1770, Wordsworth's works are noted for their emphasis on the beauty of nature, the importance of emotion, and the value of the individual. His most famous work, 'The Prelude', is considered to be his masterpiece, which is a semi-autobiographical poem that he revised throughout his life.

William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth, Simple Poetry

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William Wordsworth, Simple Poetry

Elegiac Stanzas In Memory Of My Brother, John Commander Of The E. I. Companys Ship The Earl Of Abergavenny In Which He Perished By Calamitous Shipwreck, Feb.6, 1805

William Wordsworth, Simple Poetry

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William Wordsworth, Simple Poetry

English

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Where Lies The Land To Which The Ship Would Go

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

On sunny noons upon the deck's smooth face,
Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace!
Or, o'er the stern reclining, watch below
The foaming wake far widening as we go.

On stormy nights while wild north-westers rave,
How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave!
The dripping sailor on the reeling mast
Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past.

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

Arthur Hugh Clough

Where lies the land to which the ship would go

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

On sunny noons upon the decks smooth face,
Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace;
Or, oer the stern reclining, watch below
The foaming wake far widening as we go.

On stormy nights when wild north-westers rave,
How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave!
The dripping sailor on the reeling mast
Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past.

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

Arthur Hugh Clough

With Ships The Sea Was Sprinkled Far And Nigh

With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,
Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;
Some lying fast at anchor in the road,
Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A goodly vessel did I then espy
Come like a giant from a haven broad;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
The ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a lover's look;
This ship to all the rest did I prefer:
When will she turn, and whither? She will brook
No tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir:
On went she, and due north her journey took.

William Wordsworth

The Land Of Love

Hail! voyagers, hail!
Whence e'er ye come, where'er ye rove,
    No calmer strand,
    No sweeter land,
Will e'er ye view, than the Land of Love!

    Hail! voyagers, hail!
To these, our shores, soft gales invite:
    The palm plumes wave,
    The billows lave,
And hither point fix'd stars of light!

    Hail! voyagers, hail!
Think not our groves wide brood with gloom;
    In this, our isle,
    Bright flowers smile:
Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom.

    Hail! voyagers, hail!
Be not deceived; renounce vain things;
    Ye may not find
    A tranquil mind,
Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings.

    Hail! voyagers, hail!
Time flies full fast; life soon is o'er;
    And ye may mourn,
    That h...

Herman Melville

At Sea Off The Isle Of Man

Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strong
And doubts and scruples seldom teased the brain,
That no adventurer's bark had power to gain
These shores if he approached them bent on wrong;
For, suddenly up-conjured from the Main,
Mists rose to hide the Land that search, though long
And eager, might be still pursued in vain.
O Fancy, what an age was 'that' for song!
That age, when not by 'laws' inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled,
The air controlled, the stars their courses held;
But element and orb on 'acts' did wait
Of 'Powers' endued with visible form, instinct
With will, and to their work by passion linked.

William Wordsworth

In Cabin'd Ships At Sea

In cabin'd ships, at sea,
The boundless blue on every side expanding,
With whistling winds and music of the waves - the large imperious waves - In such,
Or some lone bark, buoy'd on the dense marine,
Where, joyous, full of faith, spreading white sails,
She cleaves the ether, mid the sparkle and the foam of day, or under many a star at night,
By sailors young and old, haply will I, a reminiscence of the land, be read,
In full rapport at last.


Here are our thoughts - voyagers' thoughts,
Here not the land, firm land, alone appears, may then by them be said;
The sky o'erarches here - we feel the undulating deck beneath our feet,
We feel the long pulsation - ebb and flow of endless motion;
The tones of unseen mystery - the vague and vast suggestions of the briny world - th...

Walt Whitman