English poem
Iii.--Thanksgiving
by Robert Nichols (1893–1944)
Amazement fills my heart to-night, Amaze and awful fears; I am a ship that sees no light, But blindly onward steers.
Flung toward heaven's toppling rage, Sunk between steep and steep, A lost and wondrous fight I wage With the embattled deep.
I neither know nor care at length Where drives the storm about; Only I summon all my strength And swear to ride it out.
Yet give I thanks; despite these wars, My ship--though blindly blown, Long lost to sun or moon or stars-- Still stands up alone. I need no trust in borrowed spars; My strength is yet my own.