Choiceless

Since gales do by Nature’s arm blow In dizzying storms far from the shore, So even choiceless boats must move, As unyielding gusts so restless prove. Not every motioning vessel afloat High waters as ship or small boat Chose to tease furious ocean tide, Or test mild sharks' waspish pride. Some swift sea-faring boats would Anon stop if winds in unison stood, And relish a sober long-wanted rest From hard sails by another pressed. The wavy sail isn’t necessarily sweet Just because that fast-voyaging fleet Seems to glide over bubbly bounds In unwillingly smooth gleeful rounds. Remember gusts by Nature’s arm roll; And mortals' temporal boats must fall, Or rise along sternly unyielding trails Left by glum oceans' unresting gales.