---

Come morning on a slate-grey sea
The eye informs him endlessly:
Horizon, dawn-surrounded night,
Serene and steady in his sights.
He measures time from fading stars,
Brings down the sun to tell how far
To here and now, the hidden pearl
In bearings, wheels, and worlds.

And all true sailors go atop a hill
Where all true sailors see, and always will
A wave as truth, the ocean as what-might-be
Where all true sailors reach eternally

From weather, instinct, distant thrill,
Or duty, some will find a hill
And rise to overlook the sea,
Where ocean dreams of what to be:
Now ice and steam, now stormy thing,
Now roads to stream on, ways to wing
Through time, the tunnel—endless, brief?
To glory, god, or grief.

All true sailors go atop a hill
Where all true sailors see, and always will
A wave as truth, the ocean as what-might-be
Where all true sailors reach eternally

The navigator holds in care
The roads that run to anywhere:
Through sounded seas and sudden ways
That open, close, and end our days.
When learners listen, teachers speak:
"The universe is at our feet
Who reads the heavens understands
How motion makes the man."

And all true sailors go atop a hill,
Where all true sailors see, and always will,
A wave as truth, the ocean as what-might-be
Where all true sailors reach eternally

All true sailors go atop a hill,
Where all true sailors see, and always will,
A wave as truth, the ocean as what-might-be
Where all true sailors reach eternally

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.