A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,
And leaped like a steed o’er the race track blue,
Then up behind her, the dust of the sea,
A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.
This is quite a visual image for any sailor...I continue to be impressed by Ms. Wilcox's range-what a treasure she must have been..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very small and simple poem by Ella's standards and track record, Short and sweet filled with great imagery.