Foredoomed

No star upon thy course sheds any ray;
Though thy bark bear for years the wind and foam,
To no sweet haven shall it ever come.
The night shall see thee drifting, and the day
Behold thee as the night; thou shalt not pray,
Nor utter any cry, but, cold and dumb,
Watch the waves pass; and glad ships sailing home
Shall hail thee not upon thy trackless way.

I'he salt wave shall taste bitter to thy lip:
Weary, yea, unto death, thy soul shall be
Of winds, and the interminable sea.
That does not bring thee nearer any goal,
But sweeps through changeless gloom the fated ship
To its remote, inevitable shoal.