A Grey Day

Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape,
Rain whitens the dead sea,
From headland dim to sullen cape
Gray sails creep wearily.
I know not how that merchantman
Has found the heart ; but ’t is her plan
Seaward her endless course to shape.

Unreal as insects that appall
A drunkard’s peevish brain,
O’er the gray deep the dories crawl,
Four-legged, with rowers twain :
Midgets and minims of the earth,
Across old ocean’s vasty girth
Toiling — heroic, comical !

I wonder how that merchant’s crew
Have ever found the will !
I wonder what the fishes do
To keep them toiling still !
I wonder how the heart of man
Has patience to live out its span,
Or wait until its dreams come true. 

From Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1901) by William Vaughn Moody. This poem is in the public domain.