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The Modern Mariner Post by :iLeKtraN Category :Poems Author :Bert Leston Taylor Date :October 2011 Read :730

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The Modern Mariner

A dry sheet and a lazy sea,
And a wind so far from fast
It barely floats the owner's flag
That flutters at the mast--
That flutters at the mast, my boys;
So while the sky is free
Of cloud we'll take a yachtsman's chance
And venture out to sea.

The aneroid has dropped a tenth!
Back, back across the bar
To a harbor snug, and a long cold drink,
And a big fat black cigar--
A big fat black cigar, my boys;
While, on an even keel,
The Swedish chef out-chefs himself
In getting up a meal.

Give me a soft and gentle wind,
A fleckless azure sky;
I care not for your "snoring breeze"
And dinners heaving high--
And dinners heaving high, my boys,
Make no great hit with me;
So when the breeze begins to snore
We'll not put out to sea.

There's laughter in yon beach hotel,
And summer girls a crowd;
And hark the music, mariners,
The band is piping loud!
The band is piping loud, my boys,
Bright eyes are flashing free.
Come, fly the owner's-absent flag
And join the revelry.

(The end)
Bert Leston Taylor's poem: Modern Mariner

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A Ballade Of The Cannery A Ballade Of The Cannery

A Ballade Of The Cannery
What of the phrases, long decayed, Of paleologic pedigree, Musty, moldy, frazzled, and frayed-- A doddering, dusty company? What shall be done with them? say we; And east and west the people bawl, Dump them into the Cannery!-- Into the brine go one and all. "Grilled" and "lauded" and "scored" and "flayed," "Common or garden variety," "Wave of crime" and "reform crusade,"

Always Always

"Il y a tous les jours quelque dam chose."--ABELARD TO HELOISE. When Mrs. Mead was full of groans, When symptoms of all sorts assailed her, She sent for bluff old Doctor Jones, And told him all the things that ailed her. It took her nearly half the day, And when she finished out the string-- "Ye-e-s, Mrs. Mead," drawled Doctor J., "There's always