I judge the ravages of pirate years
Less harshly than the while they plundered me,
Flaunting their dreaded gonfalon of fears;
For now I know the wise, far-seeing Pilot
Charted the course my fragile craft should take
To come at last unto fulfillment's islet
Where starlings call a challenge from the brake.
Where once the winds of desolation moaned
To mock my cry, re-echoes lyric song--
Mute carillons of angels were intoned
Within despair to guide my craft along.
The dreams I thought the pirate years had killed
Now in the quiet harbor are fulfilled.
