A Grey Day

Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape,             Rain whitens the dead sea,             From headland dim to sullen cape             Grey 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 grey 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 fishers 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.