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Silver Ships by Mildred Plew Merryman

Silver Ships 

by Mildred Plew Merryman 

There are trails that a lad may follow 

When the years of his boyhood slip, 

But I shall soar like a swallow 

On the wings of a silver ship, 

Guiding my bird of metal, 

One with her throbbing frame, 

Floating down like a petal, 

Roaring up like a flame; 

Winding the wind that scatters 

Smoke from the chimney's lip, 

Tearing the clouds to tatters 

With the wings of a silver ship; 

Grazing the broad blue sky light 

Up where the falcons fare, 

Riding the realms of twilight, 

Brushed by a comet's hair; 

Snug in my coat of leather, 

Watching the skyline swing, 

Shedding the world like a feather 

From the tip of a tilted wing.