Red in Morning

Epigrammata LXXVII

open, lidless eye / for the last time, despairing / morning comes at last

We see a ruddy dawn, and so
Fast down another path we go
And morning bodes a mounting storm
Sui generis, soon be born
No crew may steer the cape in peace
A sundered hull the seed release
No one cried thus near the end
A tattered flag they fret to mend--
Who'll receive the call we send?