  You who have seen the foam upon bright wrecks Of stately ships that never come to port, Where sea-things crawl upon those sunken decks, And fishes through those cabins take their sport,—— There where at last the gilded, gay saloon Turns watery cavern for the spawn of seas, And spars, once splendid, rot beneath the moon That once was glad to sail with such as these,— Let never word of pity pass your lips: For these were proud in ways you cannot know, And pride is slow to die in ruined ships Who can but dream that some day they will go, Their wounds all healed, their clean strength whole again, Monarch of seas, marvel of moons and men. |
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