David Morton Biography

The Kings are passing deathward in the dark
   Of days that had been splendid where they went;
Their crowns are captive and their courts are stark
   Of purples that are ruinous, now, and rent.
...

There is a memory stays upon old ships,
   A weightless cargo in the musty hold, --
Of bright lagoons and prow-caressing lips,
   Of stormy midnights, -- and a tale untold.
...

My faith is all a doubtful thing,
   Wove on a doubtful loom, --
Until there comes, each showery spring,
   A cherry-tree in bloom;
...

Men who have loved the ships they took to sea,
Loved the tall masts, the prows that creamed with foam,
...

Here is the record of their splendid days:
The curving prow, the tall and stately mast,
And all the width and wonder of their ways
...