"Gloucester Moors" (excerpts) by William Vaughn Moody (1869-1910) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ A mile behind is Gloucester town  Where the fishing fleets put in,  A mile ahead the land dips down  And the woods and farms begin.  Here, where the moors stretch free  In the high blue afternoon,  Are the marching sun and talking sea,  And the racing winds that wheel and flee  On the flying heels of June....  This earth is not the steadfast place  We landsman build upon;  From deep to deep she varies pace,  And while she comes is gone.  Beneath my feet I feel  Her smooth bulk heave and dip;  With velvet plunge and soft upreel  She swings and steadies to her keel  Like a gallant, gallant ship....  God, dear God! Does she know her port,  Though she goes so far about?  Or blind astray, does she make her sport  To brazen and chance it out?  I watched when her captains passed:  She were better captainless.  Men in the cabin, before the mast,  But some were reckless and some aghast,  And some sat gorged at mess....  But thou, vast outbound ship of souls,  What harbor town for thee?  What shapes, when thy arriving tolls,  Shall crowd the banks to see?  Shall all the happy shipmates then  Stand singing brotherly?  Or shall a haggard ruthless few  Warp her over and bring her to,  While the many broken souls of men  Fester down in the slaver's pen,  And nothing to say or do?