Page:Eight Harvard Poets.djvu/32

 CALM DAY, WITH ROLLERS

LWAYS the ships that move in mystery on the dim horizon, Shadow-filled sails of dreams, sliding over the blue-grey ocean, Far from the rock-edged shore where willow-green waves are rushing, And white foam-people leap, to stand erect for the moment.

Ho! ye sails that seem to wander in dream-filled meadows, Say, is the shore where I stand the only field of struggle, Or are ye hit and battered out there by waves and wind-gusts As ye tack over a clashing sea of watery echoes? 21