Three ships sail, from the sanctuary of a harbour, to find adventures far away....
βOut from mooring, dock, and slip,
Through the harbor buoys they glide,
Drawing seaward till they dip
To the swirling of the tide.
One by one and two by two,
Down the channel turns they go,
Steering for the open blue
Where the salty great airs blow;
Craft of many a build and trim,
Every stitch of sail unfurled,
Till they hang upon the rim
Of the azure ocean.
Now the spring is in the town,
Who would not a rover be,
When the wintered keels go down
To the calling of the sea?
Bliss Carmen 1887