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.
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