North! We are sailing North,
The song at the windlass is done.
The slim, still palms, astern,
Are black ‘gainst the orange sun.
North! She is heading North,
And the shouldering trade is free,
And rail, and deck, and spar,
Are sick of the purple sea!
Weary of calm and squall;
Weary of billow and spray;
Weary of blue and gold,
And sick for the seas of gray.
North! We are sailing North,
And the sudden darkness is white
With the foam of the herding seas
And the long wake’s silver light.
The light of the galley door
Gleams red on the slanting deck.
Windward the long seas leap
Racing us neck and neck.
North! We are sailing North,
Lifting, and leaning over.
We are dreaming of inland fields
And the little winds in the clover.
Here is the tenth of May
And the breeze at a nine-knot tune!
We’re reeling, a-sea, to-night—
We’ll be laughing, ashore, in June.
North! We are heading North,
And far in the dusk I see
A warm light, low on the Coast of Dream,
Marking the course for me.