At Ship’s Helm
by Walt Whitman
Aboard, at ship’s helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-beach dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell — O a warning bell, rock’d by the waves.
O you give good counsel indeed, you bell by the sea-coast ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O seaman, you mind the loud admonition,
The bows turn, — the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship!
O ship of the body — ship of the soul — voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.