Monday mornings. A poem: When the fishing boats go out.

Fishing boat setting to sea, Youghal, county Cork
Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

Monday Morning – setting to sea

Monday morning and it is that time of the week when I am always looking somehow to get my mind and body moving.

Some little time back I stayed for a week down near Youghal, county Cork. Each Morning I would watch the boats heading out to sea, very early each day they would slowly disappear over the horizon.

Just to help me start my own day and the week ahead I found this Poem by Lucy Montgomery.

When the Fishing Boats Go Out

Lucy Montgomery

When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o’er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There’s joyance and there’s freedom when the fishing boats go out.

The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o’er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiver­oh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!

Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky­
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.

The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There’s keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.

Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world’s alive when the fishing boats go out.