Harpooner
Eliphalet Lobb
Was a crackerjack
At a scrimshaw job.
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Early in the morning as the moon was in the sky,
Early in the morning I kissed my girl goodbye,
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Saint George he was a fighting man, as all the tales do tell;
He fought a battle long ago, and fought it wondrous well.
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Pilot boat, lighthouse,
Stiff green sea -
House-flag and number
Plain as can be -
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High on its curving hillside
The windmill stands and sees
Below it copse and pasture
And hamlet bowered in trees.
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Why did I dream last night, I wonder, about the ship
Ledore
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All on the autumn woods the mist lay white and chill;
And I heard the rising wind come piping down the hill,
And the stream sigh o'er the shallows
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Day after day the sun stared widely
Over the wide and windless seas;
Against the masts the sails drooped idly,
Unhanded, waiting for a breeze.
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By the old Pagoda Anchorage they lay full fifteen strong,
And their spars were like a forest, and their names were like a song,
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Who were the builders of Great Zimbabwe?
No man knows . . .
Who were those
That quarried, chiseled, hewed,
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