I look up;
The mighty ships
Drift slowly hither.
They stop for a while,
Looming over the plains
Attacking the fields,
And the meadows,
And the gardens.
A beautiful attack,
Alleviating despair.
The fresh scent of the Earth
And fragrances from the new blooms
Fill the air;
It is as if this landscape
Just learned of colour.
But the ships anchor not,
For they must bring life and hope elsewhere too,
And they drift slowly thither.