On music drawn away, a sea-borne mariner Star over bowsprit pale, Beneath a roof of mist or depths of lucid air I put out under sail; Breastbone my steady bow and lungs full, running free Before a following gale, I ride the rolling back and mass of every sea By Night wrapt in her veil; All passions and all joys that vessels undergo Tremble alike in me; Fair wind or waves in havoc when the tempests blow On the enormous sea Rock me, and level calms come silvering sea and air, A glass for my despair. |