GLOUCESTER MOORS

A mile behind is Gloucester town 

Where the fishing fleets put in, 

A mile ahead the land dips down 

And the woods and farms begin.

Here where the moors stretch free

In the high blue afternoon,

Are the marching sun and talking sea, 

And the racing winds that wheel and flee

 On the flying heels of June.

Jill,o'er-the-ground is purple blue,

 Blue is the quaker-maid,

The wild geranium holds its dew.

Long in the bowlder's shade.

Wax-red hangs the cup

From the huckleberry boughs,

In barberry bells the gray moths sup, 

Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up 

Sweet bowls for their carouse.

Over the shelf of the sandy cove

Beach-peas blossom late.

By copse and cliff the swallows rove

Each calling to his mate.

Seaward the sea-gulls go,

And the land"birds all are here:

That green-gold flash was a vireo,

And yonder flame where the marsh. flags grow 

Was a scarlet tanager.

This earth is not the steadfast place 

We landsmen build upon;

From deep to deep she varies pace, 

And while she comes is gone.,

 Beneath my feet I feel

Her smooth bulk heave and dip; 

With velvet plunge and soft upreel 

She swings and steadies to her keel

 Like a gallant, gallant ship.

These summer clouds she sets for sail, 

The sun is her masthead light,

She tows the moon like a pinnace frail 

Where her phosphor wake churns bright.

Now hid, now looming clear,

On the face of the dangerous blue

The star fleets tack and wheel and veer, 

But on, but on does the old earth steer

 As if her port she knew.

God, dear God! Does she know her port,

 Though she goes so far about?

Or blind astray, does she make her sport

 To brazen and chance it out?

I watched when her captains passed: 

She were better captainless.

Men in the cabin, before the mast,

But some were reckless and some aghast, 

And some sat gorged at mess.

By her battened hatch I leaned and caught 

Sounds from the noisome hold,­

Cursing and sighing of souls distraught

There is cash to purse and spend,

There are wives to be embraced,

Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend,

 And hearts to take and keep to the end,­

0 little sails, make haste!

But thou, vast outbound ship of souls,

What harbor town for thee?

What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, 

Shall crowd the banks to see?

Shall all the happy shipmates then 

Stand singing brotherly?

Or shall a haggard ruthless few 

Warp her over and bring her to, 

While the many broken souls of men 

Fester down in the slaver's pen,

.,Apd nothing to say or do?