George Sterling (Джордж Стерлинг)
On a Western Beach
FAR out, hulls down, the ships go by;
North, south, they pass, by night or day;
There, where the ocean meets the sky,
The canvas gleams, the tall masts sway.
Intrepid, whose adventure finds
No lasting peace for sail or prow—
Unto what oceans and what winds,
O stranger ship, advancest thou ?
The tempest and the night descend
In which no truthful star may warn;
There waits no beacon to befriend
Where southward looms the bitter Horn.
But will is at the guarded wheel —
Decision at the managed sail,
To hurl the javelin of thy keel
Against the billow and the gale.
The tides and winds on that design
Converge, indifferent at best;
The fog's invasion blots the sign,
Slow sinking in the midnight west.
Thou sailest by another Star—
A solemn and unsetting Fire—
That sun of purpose, high and far,
To which intrepid hearts aspire-
George Sterling’s other poems:
886
