The janitor's boy bought a catalogue boat, 'Twas ballasted down to the Plim. He offered to me half the cabin quite free If I would go cruising with him. His eyes, they were flecked like the mackerel skies, His hair was a beautiful red. No gay brigantine could so sweetly careen As that catalogue boat, so he said. Its anchor was ebony, even the flukes, The ship's bell was made of cut glass; From top gallant clew to where main royal grew The hamper was all done in brass. The port and the starboard lights, both of them bronze, The galley stove modeled in gold, The wheel and the heel of the bowsprit and keel Were rosewood, and so was the hold. Our tackle was ivory right from the tusk, The topping lifts heavy with silk, And all of the cleats, with the reef points and sheets, Were whiter than Paradise milk. Each runway was ribboned with cutlasses grim, The gats of the broadsides were veiled, No port captain knew of the fathoms we drew Because we were sunk 'ere we sailed. The log showed a clearing date one Monday morn, The powder in Number Two hold, We were rigged as the jack but alas, and alack, That telltale ship's bell up and told. A renegade gong full of cut-glass deceit, Not daring to take to the sea, Went blabbing till blue on an innocent crew -- The janitor's laddie and me. The householders scuttled our catalogue boat -- Oh, God will forgive them some day. A billow they buttonholed, frothy and cold, And sank it ten feet in the bay. We watched from a coastline and dimmed as we gazed, We knelt when it started to drown. The bowsprit did cant with a heavenly slant, The ensign was all upside down. But sometimes the sorrow begetteth the joy; A clamor arose from a swell, The causer of woe was just going below -- That timorous telltale the bell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN NATURE (2) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A SONG TO MITHRAS by RUDYARD KIPLING ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER QUATRAIN: SPENDTHRIFT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE MAUSOLEUM by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN WE'LL GO NO MORE THE WOODLAND WAY by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE |