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.