WITH happiness its precious freight, Fair Fortune's barque swept by, Afar I saw its shining state, Its fairy majesty. Its course the helmsman strove to stay, My pulses throbbed apace, My outstretched hands implored delay, Then -- vacant was its place. Farther, still farther o'er the tide, Swift rushing like the wind. And now the road I sit beside, Mine eyes tears almost blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRD; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST GASCOIGNE'S WOODMANSHIP by GEORGE GASCOIGNE A TRUE HYMN [HYMNE] by GEORGE HERBERT THE STENOGRAPHERS by PATRICIA KATHLEEN PAGE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: FEBRUARY by EDMUND SPENSER A HIGH-TONED OLD CHRISTIAN WOMAN by WALLACE STEVENS THE LADY'S DRESSING ROOM by JONATHAN SWIFT |