TELL me, pretty one, where will you sail? How shall our bark be steered, I pray? Breezes flutter each silken veil, Tell me, where will you go to-day? My vessel's helm is of ivory white, Her bulwarks glisten with jewels bright And red gold; The sails are made from the wings of a dove, And the man at the wheel is the god of love, Blithe and bold. Where shall we sail? 'Mid the Baltic's foam? Or over the broad Pacific roam? Don't refuse. Say, shall we gather the sweet snow-flowers, Or wander in rose-strewn Eastern bowers? Only choose. "Oh, carry me then," cried the fair coquette, To the land where never I've journeyed yet, To that shore Where love is lasting, and change unknown, And a man is faithful to one alone Evermore." Go, seek that land for a year and a day, At the end of the time you'll be still far away Pretty maid;— 'Tis a country unlettered in map or in chart, 'Tis a country that does not exist, sweetheart, I'm afraid! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FONTAINEBLEAU (AUTUMN) by SARA TEASDALE TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER by JOHN DRYDEN TELLING THE BEES (A COLONIAL CUSTOM) by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1877 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS ARMSTRONG SONG AND SINGER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON ON THE BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM RIZZO HOPPNER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |