At The Helm

(Nova Scotian)

Fog, and a wind that blows the sea Blindly into my eyes. And I know not if my soul shall be When the day dies.

But if it be not and I lose All that men live to gain-- I who have little known but hues Of wind and rain--

Still I shall envy no man's lot, For I have held this great, Never in whines to have forgot That Fate is Fate.