The Good Craft Snow Bird


Strenuous need that head-wind be
  From purposed voyage that drives at last
The ship, sharp-braced and dogged still,
  Beating up against the blast.
Brigs that figs for market gather,
  Homeward-bound upon the stretch,
Encounter oft this uglier weather
  Yet in end their port they fetch.
Mark yon craft from sunny Smyrna
  Glazed with ice in Boston Bay;
Out they toss the fig-drums cheerly,
  Livelier for the frosty ray.
What if sleet off-shore assailed her,
  What though ice yet plate her yards;
In wintry port not less she renders
  Summer's gift with warm regards!
And, look, the underwriters' man,
  Timely, when the stevedore's done,
Puts on his specs to pry and scan,
And sets her down—A, No. 1.
Bravo, master! Bravo, brig!
  For slanting snows out of the West
Never the Snow-Bird cares one fig;
  And foul winds steady her, though a pest.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add The Good Craft Snow Bird to your own personal library.

Return to the Herman Melville Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; The Haglets

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson