Florence Wilkinson Evans

INTO the violet vastness of shoreless and moaning twilight

The infinite hulk of the ship of my city pushes her course,

Paying out with the rush of her spindle a log unreturning,

Crying of births and hushes of deaths recording the knots of her voyage.

On her decks by the chart-house they pace, the gallant leisurely passengers,

Some sob deep down in her hold, the huddled frightened stowaways,

But the infinite ship of my city steadily surges onward;

Saluting her neighbours (audacious or timid) the lights of her starboard and larboard.

Ship of my city, ship of my city, burning clear at the head of thy foremast,

Who is thy captain, what is thy message, where is the port that thou makest?

Into the violet vastness of shoreless and moaning twilight

The infinite hulk of the ship of my city pushes her course unreturning.