The Sailors Stand
The ghosts become their seaward friends;
who ask for nothing; only sing
when midnight in the seas suspends
when stares to darkness only cling.
Their message be exclaims of mind,
the bluish vastness shroud and berth,
shall tomb in depths and so enshrined
perchance abide on lands of mirth.
Their ancestors and maids of brines
- sea nymphs of valor and of thorn -
foam ceremonial designs
to host the venturers each morn.
Cause it is said that three fates weave
with rhapsichords in air to play,
upon the bridge of cargo cleave
while ghosts the tunes afar convey.
The sailors stand upon the stern
when nightly stars the dawn bedeck
on minds the maids of brines discern
fixate on waves their eyes and beck
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