The Ships of Saint John (Bliss Carman Poem)
Where are the ships I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, ...
Where are the ships I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, ...
We are the vagabonds of time, And rove the yellow autumn days, When all the roads are gray with rime ...
I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare ...
Time out of mind I have stood Fronting the frost and the sun, That the dream of the world might ...
I I heard the spring wind whisper Above the brushwood fire, "The world is made forever Of transport and desire. ...
The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream ...
I Soul, what art thou in the tribes of the sea? LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of ...
Wind of the dead men's feet, Blow down the empty street Of this old city by the sea With news ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
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