The very sails are singing A song not of the wind; A fire dance is creaming Our wake that runs behind. In all the shining splendid White moonflower of the sea, There's not a runnel sleeping For ecstasy of thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUNERAL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE ON MONSIEUR'S DEPARTURE by ELIZABETH I THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT PREJUDICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT by ROSE HARTWICK THORPE FAREWELL by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE STORY OF ZERBIN AND ISABELLA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO |