Sonnet VII. Our Country.

From: The Bird and the Bell with Other Poems (1875)
Author: Christopher Pearse Cranch
Published: Osgood and Company 1875 Boston



As on some stately ship, with land in view,
The last sea-swell beneath her gliding keel,
Sudden, like God’s hand clad in blinding steel,
A thunder-bolt falls crashing from the blue,
Shattering the mast, a sulphurous cloud rolls through
The sails and rigging, while with quivering lips
The sailors see the deck all strewn with chips
And shreds and splinters, yet make all ado
To mend their loss, and still the ship sails on:
So, reeling from the shock, our Ship of State
Repairs the chasm left by the full of him
Who stood her mainmast: onward we have gone;
Sound at the core, though tossed by storms but late,
Nearing our port, we cross the shadows dim.

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