The Voyagers

by Austin Tappan Wright

last section  | Contents |  Notes |  Next section

Two men put forth their little boats to sea,—      One, ever wondering why he left his home      And why his boat was thus condemned to roam Alone, unto that far unknown countrie,* Let faithful tiller* swing and ropes* slip free.      When winds whirled down and bared their teeth of foam,*      He raised white hands high to the eyeless dome,* And sank, at vain war with eternity.* The other questioned not his journey’s whence      And why, nor, pondering, let the slack ropes run,           But kept the seas from breaching his brave fort* Till, keener with one storm’s experience,      He weathered all; and, in a burst of sun,           His small, tried bark* came speeding into port.   last section  | Contents |  Notes |  Next section “The Voyagers” by Austin Tappan Wright was originally published in The Harvard Advocate, and reprinted in Verses from the Harvard Advocate, Third Series, 1886-1906. Cambridge: The Harvard Advocate, 1906, p. 202. The work of Austin Tappan Wright here reproduced is in the public domain. All other material in this edition is ©2008-2011 by Brian Kunde.