Verses and Sonnets by Hilaire Belloc — Read

I was like one who grips the deck by night, / Bearing the tiller up against his breast; / I was like one who makes with all his might / For keeping course although so hardly prest; / Who veers with veering shock, now east, now west, / And strains his foothold still, and still makes play, / Of bending beams until the sacred light / Shows him high lands and heralds up the day.

But now such busy work of battle past, / I am like one whose barque at bar at last / Comes hardly heeling down the adventurous breeze, / And entering calmer seas, / I am like one that brings his merchandise / To Californian skies.