These Special Ships of Mine
From where they come I do not know, these special ships of mine,
but under night skies far away they sail the course of time.
I see them not in common seas, these gallant vessels fine,
but only in the waters dark where pain and joy are rhymed.
Of oak and tar and sails of silk, these special ships of mine,
they glide like soundless clouds of down across the waters deep.
Proud ships at sea they are, these lonely crafts on brine,
With masts held high and rudders straight and promises to keep.
Who pilots these nocturnal barks, these special ships of mine?
Not men who boast, nor those who take, such men are not found there.
These sailors come from black rich soil, just like the vintage vine,
and in their hearts the song of love becomes a hymn so fair.
The helmsmen of such noble crafts, these ships of pure perfection,
chart waters near the distant shore, their compass extra fine.
They know the price that comes with toil, the anguish of rejection;
Sweet Jesus, lead them safely home, these special ships of mine.
Noyes Capehart Long
February 24, 2000