Thalassa

 Put out to sea, my broken comrades

Let the old seaweek crack, the surge

Burgeon, oblivious of the last

Embarkation of feckless men

Let every adverse force converge

Here we must needs embark again.


Run up the sail, my heartsick comrades,

Let each horizon tilt and lurch.

You know the worst, your wills are fickle

Your values blurred, your hearts impure

And your past lives a ruined church

But let your poison be your cure.


Put out to sea, ignoble comrades,

Whose records shall be noble yet

Butting through scarps of moving marble

The narwhal dares us to be free

By a high star our course is set

Our end is life. Put out to sea.

Louis MacNeice



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PSALM 46 (THE MESSAGE)








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