POETRY.
THE DOOM OF SAILS.
ALAS I must ye utterly vanish, and cease from amidst us, Sails of the olden sea?
Now dispossessed by the stern and stunted ironclad, Wingless and squat and stern ?
Purple sails of the heroes lured to the Westward, Spread for the golden isles !
Sails of a magic foam with faery plunder, Wafting the wizard gold !
Sails of the morning, come like ghosts on the sea-line, With midnight load of the deep !
Sails of the sunset, red over endless waters, For the furthest Orient filled !
Sails of the starlight, passing we know not whither, Silent, lighted, and lone!
Sails of the sea-man accursed, and cruising for ever, Hoist by a spectral, crew !
Sails set afire by the lightning, resounding to tempest, That drum and thunder and sing!
Sails that unruffled repose on a bosom of azure, Glassed by a placid flood !
Alas ! must ye go as a dream, and depart as a vision, Sails of the olden sea ? STEPHEN PHILLIPS.
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