It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one
of three.
`By thy long beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
******************************
The Fool Aground
I'll try to go my toilsome way,
With rudder
deep in sand,
But how's the vehicle made for sea
To move upon the land?
The rocks in sand scrape paint away
From off the
weathered hull,
As high atop the wind comes on
To parse the streaming lull.
And in this sorry state I go,
Though madness
come with tide, I know,
Long years ago my course was set,
My boat has found no ocean yet.
So here am I, the fool aground,
With soil
unyielding all around.
Know this! My dream is of the sea
Whose powers only set me free.
Though when will come the freedom day
When
all my cares are swept away
Or sink at last beneath the sea,
Whose waves shall bear both boat and me?
© by Gerald Keith 2004