To The Master Of The Meteor

by



Lonesome on earth's loneliest deep,
Sailor! who dost thy vigil keep—
Off the Cape of Storms dost musing sweep
Over monstrous waves that curl and comb;
Of thee we think when here from brink
We blow the mead in bubbling foam.
Of thee we think, in a ring we link;
To the shearer of ocean's fleece we drink,
And the Meteor rolling home.


6

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add To The Master Of The Meteor to your library.

Return to the Herman Melville library , or . . . Read the next poem; We Fish

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com