to N.V. de G.S.
Strange is the seaman’s heart; he hopes, he fears;
draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;
Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep
his shattered prow uncomforted puts back.
Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm
of that bright island; where he feared to touch,
his spirit readventures; and for years,
where by his wife he slumbers safe at home,
thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees
the eternal mountain beckon, and awakes
yearning for that far home that might have been
Robert Louis Stevenson
Tags: Tacking
Greatings, ,
Doggy