The sunset light on Birkenhead
Shines bright, above the shading seas;
And flame like oriels, gold and red,
The western windows of the trees:
A calm is in the damask air,
And slow ships pass, with pennants fair.
Alone, I walk along the quays,
Where thousands walk each day alone, —
Sad highways by the peopled seas,
Where travellers meet and part, unknown.
For here, beneath this gray sea-wall,
Each day an hundred anchors fall.
In yonder mists, the cliffs beside,
I see the impatient ships afar,
That wait the Mersey's rising tide
To lift them o'er the harbor bar,
And here, beside Victoria's Tower,
I watch for them an idle hour.
I watch the ships that wait to go;
I watch the ships that wait to come;
And hear the deep tides pulsing slow
Against the sea-walls cold and dumb.
The eve is calm, the salt air cool,
And fades the light from Liverpool.
The havened ships around me rise:
I know that they were made to sail
On other seas, 'neath other skies,
To breast the billows and the gale;
And yet they lie with folded sails,
As though there were no seas or gales.
Each ship declares the builder's plan,
The purpose of a mind unseen.
Beyond the horizons I can scan,
The airy mists of shade and sheen,
Their ribs of oak were made to go,
Their deftly fashioned sails to blow.
'T is so with thee, Soul of mine:
'T is thus 't is given thee to know,
That past earth's low horizon line
Thou too art formed at last to go;
And there within thyself may'st find
The purpose of a higher Mind!
They were not given thee for nought, —
Fair Hope to leave the havened shores,
And ripe Experience like a chart,
And Faith that highest Heaven explores
There is another shore for thee, —
It lies beyond the silent sea.
Ports beyond the port of time,
Fair abodes of glowing spheres,
Deeps profound, heights sublime,
Morns of holy atmospheres,
Orbs remote of glorious light
That here but faintly meet my sight! —
Towards you my bark of life is turned,
The morning light is on the prow.
Fair shores await thee, undiscerned,
Ports that no dreams discover now;
And. in horizons near or far,
There shines for thee the polar star.
The tide is rising: from the quays
The ships go out, one after one,
To breast the waves of rising seas,
And idly drift in calms of sun.
The tide is rising: lo, afar
The white sails cross the harbor bar!
Now fast they come towards Birkenhead;
Their free wings beat the breezes cool,
And drop their flags of commerce red
Before the docks of Liverpool:
And lo, like God's own lamp afar,
Shines on the sea the polar star!
The tide is rising: I shall go
Some day beyond the refluent sea.
The mornings on the hills shall glow
In far horizons, lost to me;
And all my powers of soul will share
A broader sea, a brighter air.
The tide is rising: let me gain
A freightage for the ports sublime,
That lift their splendors o'er the main
Beyond the stormy shores of time.
The eve is calm, the sea is full,
Fast come the ships to Liverpool.
Fast come the ships: the polar star
Has led their varying courses right,
From each pacific port afar
To England's port of peace, to-night;
And here their sails fall peacefully.
In this calm city of the sea.
Polar Star, be thou my guide
Where'er my duty bids me go;
There is no sea nor ocean tide
Where thy fair lamp shall cease to glow;
And thou wilt rightly lead my bark
O'er seas mysterious and dark.