Louise Imogen Guiney
Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore
THERE in his room, whene’er the moon looks in,
And silvers now a shell, and now a fin,
And o’er his chart glides like an argosy,
Quiet and old sits he.
Danger! he hath grown homesick for thy smile.
Where hidest thou the while, heart’s boast,
Strange face of beauty sought and lost,
Star-face that lured him out from boyhood’s isle?
Blown clear from dull indoors, his dreams behold
Night-water smoke and sparkle as of old,
The taffrail lurch, the sheets triumphant toss
Their phosphor-flowers across.
Towards ocean’s either rim the long-exiled
Wears on, till stunted cedars throw
A lace-like shadow over snow,
Or tropic fountains wash their agates wild.
Awhile, play up and down the briny spar
Odors of Surinam and Zanzibar,
Till blithely thence he ploughs, in visions new,
The Labradorian blue;
All homeless hurricanes about him break;
The purples of spent day he sees
From Samos to the Hebrides,
And drowned men dancing darkly in his wake.
Where the small deadly foam-caps, well descried,
Top, tier on tier, the hundred-mountained tide,
Away, and far away, his pride is borne,
Riding the noisy morn,
Plunges, and preens her wings, and laughs to know
The helm and tightening halyards still
Follow the urging of his will,
And scoff at sullen earth a league below.
Mischance hath barred him from his heirdom high,
And shackled him with many an inland tie,
And of his only wisdom made a jibe
Amid an alien tribe:
No wave abroad but moans his fallen state.
The trade-wind ranges now, the trade-wind roars!
Why is it on a yellowing page he pores?
Ah, why this hawser fast to a garden gate?
Thou friend so long withdrawn, so deaf, so dim,
Familiar Danger, O forget not him!
Repeat of thine evangel yet the whole
Unto his subject soul,
Who suffers no such palsy of her drouth,
Nor hath so tamely worn her chain,
But she may know that voice again,
And shake the reefs with answer of her mouth.
O give him back, before his passion fail,
The singing cordage and the hollow sail,
And level with those aged eyes let be
The bright unsteady sea;
And move like any film from off his brain
The pasture wall, the boughs that run
Their evening arches to the sun,
The hamlet spire across the sown champaign;
And on the shut space and the trivial hour,
Turn the great floods! and to thy spousal bower,
With rapt arrest and solemn loitering,
Him whom thou lovedst bring:
That he, thy faithful one, with praising lip,
Not having, at the last, less grace
Of thee than had his roving race,
Sum up his strength to perish with a ship.
Louise Imogen Guiney's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore by Louise Imogen Guiney )
- Thursday, Frank Avon
- Uluru, Kazuko Shiraishi
- The Neverending Story, Elimar Pingkian
- Yellow Lake, Kazuko Shiraishi
- IF only I were A Dove!, FOEVERAMI JOHNSON
- Gust, Kazuko Shiraishi
- Hunger, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- My Tokyo, Kazuko Shiraishi
- We fall....TO RISE, Soumita Sarkar Ray
- LOSS....MANY, Soumita Sarkar Ray
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Being With You, Heather Burns
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda
(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(24 October 1923 – 20 December 1997)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)