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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.