Men In A Ship Are

I Must Go Down To The Sea Again, To The Lonely Sea And The Sky; And All I Ask Is A Tall Ship And A Star To Steer Her By.

Quinquireme Of Nineveh From Distant Ophir, Rowing Home To Haven In Sunny Palestine, With A Cargo Of Ivory, And Apes And Peacocks, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, And Sweet White Wine.

Man With His Burning Soul Has But An Hour Of Breath To Build A Ship Of Truth In Which His Soul May Sail- Sail On The Sea Of Death. For Death Takes Toll Of Beauty, Courage, Youth, Of All But Truth.

It Ought To Have Gangsters, And Aeroplanes And A Lot Of Automatic Pistols.

Success Is The Brand On The Brow Of The Man Who Aimed Too Low.