ENCOMIUM TO A CLIPPER
By W. T. Block
- Oh, lonely clipper ship!
- Withered, barnacled hulk of a dethroned sovereign,
- Waterlogged with the memories of stout men,
- Rotting as if in the sands of time
- And wallowing in the sea of the forgotten;
- Shorn of shrouds,
- Denuded of wings, and
- Useless to an age that
- Gives no devotion to slow movement!
- Hold high your oaken masts!
- Flex the muscles of your sagging spars and
- Tell a hurried world that
- Somewhere in these,
- Your sunken bowels,
- Are the organs that
- Gave birth to greatness!