Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Historically, sailors have felt free of a myriad of ills once they were clear of land. While the sea may hold its own dangers, nothing there was untenable. A sailor can deal with things at sea; by land he is often quite literally a fish out of water. Thomas Flemming Day understood that thoroughly and his poem When reflects that understanding. When I read it, which is frequently, I think not only of my own love for the sea but of the generations before me who shared that delight.
When western winds are blowing soft
Across the Island Sound;
When every sail that draw aloft,
Is swollen true and round.
When yellow shores along the lee,
Slope upward to the sky;
When opal bright the land and sea,
In changeful contact lie;
When idle yachts at anchor swim,
Above the phantom shape;
When spires of canvas dot the rim,
Which curves from cape to cape.
When seaweed strewn the ebbing tide,
Pours eastward to the main;
When clumsy coasters side by side,
Tack in and out again.
When such a day is mine to live,
What has the world beyond to give?
Stay safe out there Brethren. I will return.
Header: Lighthouse by Chrystal Chan via American Gallery