The Merchantmen

    King Solomon drew merchantmen,
      Because of his desire
    For peacocks, apes, and ivory,
      From Tarshish unto Tyre:
    With cedars out of Lebanon
      Which Hiram rafted down,
    But we be only sailormen
      That use in London town.

    _Coastwise--cross-seas--round the world and back again--
      Where the flaw shall head us or the full Trade suits--
    Plain-sail--storm-sail--lay your board and tack again--
      And that's the way we'll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots!_

    We bring no store of ingots,
      Of spice or precious stones,
    But that we have we gathered
      With sweat and aching bones:
    In flame beneath the tropics,
      In frost upon the floe,
    And jeopardy of every wind
      That does between them go.

    And some we got by purchase,
      And some we had by trade,
    And some we found by courtesy
      Of pike and carronade,
    At midnight, 'mid-sea meetings,
      For charity to keep,
    And light the rolling homeward-bound
      That rode a foot too deep.

    By sport of bitter weather
      We're walty, strained, and scarred
    From the kentledge on the kelson
      To the slings upon the yard.
    Six oceans had their will of us
      To carry all away--
    Our galley 's in the Baltic,
      And our boom 's in Mossel Bay!

    We've floundered off the Texel,
      Awash with sodden deals,
    We've slipped from Valparaiso
      With the Norther at our heels:
    We've ratched beyond the Crossets
      That tusk the Southern Pole,
    And dipped our gunnels under
      To the dread Agulhas roll.

    Beyond all outer charting
      We sailed where none have sailed,
    And saw the land-lights burning
      On islands none have hailed;
    Our hair stood up for wonder,
      But, when the night was done,
    There danced the deep to windward
      Blue-empty 'neath the sun!

    Strange consorts rode beside us
      And brought us evil luck;
    The witch-fire climbed our channels,
      And danced on vane and truck:
    Till, through the red tornado,
      That lashed us nigh to blind,
    We saw The Dutchman plunging,
      Full canvas, head to wind!

    We've heard the Midnight Leadsman
      That calls the black deep down--
    Ay, thrice we've heard The Swimmer,
      The Thing that may not drown.
    On frozen bunt and gasket
      The sleet-cloud drave her hosts,
    When, manned by more than signed with us,
      We passed the Isle o' Ghosts!

    And north, amid the hummocks,
      A biscuit-toss below,
    We met the silent shallop
      That frighted whalers know;
    For, down a cruel ice-lane,
      That opened as he sped,
    We saw dead Henry Hudson
      Steer, North by West, his dead.

    So dealt God's waters with us
      Beneath the roaring skies,
    So walked His signs and marvels
      All naked to our eyes:
    But we were heading homeward
      With trade to lose or make--
    Good Lord, they slipped behind us
      In the tailing of our wake!

    Let go, let go the anchors;
      Now shamed at heart are we
    To bring so poor a cargo home
      That had for gift the sea!
    Let go the great bow-anchors--
      Ah, fools were we and blind--
    The worst we baled with utter toil,
      The best we left behind!

    _Coastwise--cross-seas--round the world and back again,
      Whither the flaw shall fail us or the Trades drive down:
    Plain-sail--storm-sail--lay your board and tack again--
      And all to bring a cargo up to London Town!_