OUT in the sky the great dark clouds are
massing;
I look far out into the pregnant night,
Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
And catch the gleaming of a random light,
That tells me that the ship I seek is passing,
passing.
My tearful eyes my soul's deep hurt are
glassing;
For I would hail and check that ship of
ships.
I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud,
My voice falls dead a foot from mine own
lips
And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, pass-
ing, passing.
O Earth, O Sky, O Ocean, both surpassing,
O heart of mine, O soul that dreads the
dark!
Is there no hope for me? Is there no way
That I may sight and check that speeding
bark
Which out of sight and sound is passing,
passing?
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