Friday, September 6, 2013

This was sailing




   Look, now Excellence
   Honors Aeacus' island,
   Harbor of fame,
   And steers his town
   In the roads of Glory
   Glad for wreaths,
   And sound Order
   With solemn rites,
   Who wards in peace
   The cities of reverent men.

We are nothing; less than nothing,
and dreams. We are only what might
have been, and must wait upon the
tedious shores of Lethe millions
of ages before we have existence
and a name.

Complete Poems
  Nemean Ode for Pytheas
  of Aegina (Pancratium)
Robert Fagles, translation
450 BC
op. cit.

Charles Lamb
  A Reverie
op. cit.

  Intrepid, NYYC
  Defender of America's Cup
  1967 and 1970