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1893–1944

III.— THANKSGIVING

Robert Nichols

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.

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III.— THANKSGIVING · Robert Nichols · Poetry Cove