We try to touch this country’s mind
It’s ships like this, quite hard to find
But come to grips with but half her purpose
When thinking of these ships
That art, untouched by softness
All that line drawn rigging
Hard drawn to weather to stand the test of time
Standing that art of masts
Sail crowded, fit to break,
Yet stayed to strength and back stayed into rake.
They mark our passage as a race of men
Earth will not see such ships as those again.
