Wireless
Now to those who search the deep,
Gleam of Hope and Kindly Light,
Once, before you turn to sleep,
Breathe a message through the night.
Never doubt that they'll receive it.
Send it, once, and you'll believe it.
Wrecks that burn against the stars,
Decks where death is wallowing green,
Snare the breath among their spars,
Hear the flickering threads between,
Quick, through all the storms that blind them,
Quick with worlds that rush to find them.
Think you those aerial
Whisper more than spirits may ?
Think you that our strong
Touch no distance when we pray ?
Think you that no wings are flying'Twixt the living and the dying ?
Inland, here, upon your knees,
You shall breathe from urgent lips,
Round the ships that guard your seas,
Fleet on fleet of angel ships ;
Yea, the guarded may so bless them .
That no terrors can distress them.
You shall guide the darkling prow,
Kneeling thus—and far inland—You shall touch the storm-beat
Gently as a spirit-hand.
Even a blindfold prayer may speed them,
And a little child may lead them.
This poem was taken from Alfred Noyes' book The Elfin Artist and other poems, published in 1920 by William Blackwood and Sons.
It is in a section entitled Songs of the Trawlers.
JS
Alfred Noyes
Other author posts
The Sussex Sailor
O, once, by Cuckmere Haven, I heard a sailor sing Of shores beyond the sunset, And lands of lasting spring, Of blue lagoons and palm trees And isles where all was young; But this was ever the burden of ev'ry note he sung: O, h...
Princeton May 1917
Here Freedom stood by slaughtered friend and foe, And, ere the wrath paled or that sunset died, Looked through the ages; then, with eyes aglow, Laid them to wait that future, side by side ~~ Now lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shine Th...
Fishers Of Men
Long, long ago, He said, He who could wake the And walk upon the sea-Come, follow Me
The Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea, In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree, Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears, I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves t...