A GREY DAY

by: William Vaughn Moody (1869-1910)

REY 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.

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