A Saturday Woman Poet. Eavan Boland.

New Territory

Several things announced the fact to us:
The captain’s Spanish tears
Falling like doubloons in the headstrong light,
And then of course the fuss-
The crew Jostling and interspersing cheers
With wagers. overnight
as we went down to our cabins , nursing the last
Of the grog , talking as usual of conquest,
Land hove into sight.

Frail compasses and trenchant constellations
Brought us as far as this,
And now air and water, fire and earth
stand at their given stations
Out there, and are ready to replace
This single desperate width
Of ocean. Why do we hesitate? Water and air
And fire and earth and therefore life are here,
And therefore death.

Out of the dark man comes to life and into it
He goes and loves and dies,
(His element being the dark and not the light of day)
So the ambitious wit
Of poets and exploring ships have been his eyes-
Riding the dark for joy-
And so Isaiah of the sacred text text is eagle-eyed because
By peering down the unlit centuries
He glimpsed the holy boy.

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