THE SACRED SHIPS
Reading edition
Out past the Highlands’ smoke and Autumn gold, The great gray ships on secret orders steam; Battalioned boys their dawn-lit land behold Drifting astern, like towers in a dream; They watch the havened harbor lights that gleam Speechless farewell, too tender to be told— Until within their breasts austere and bold, The former days remote and alien seem, And they, the fathers of a Day supreme. Thus, visioning their service—to a man— They grim in their stern blitheness, sail to War. Yea, while we sleep, in one night’s star-lit span— Youth leaves our shores—to face the Minotaur.