"And then the men and rigging, and the way Ships move, running or beating, and the poise At the roll's end, the checking in the sway-- I want to paint them perfect, short of the noise; And then the life, the half-decks full of boys, The fo'c'sles with the men there, dripping wet. I know the subjects that I want to get. "It's not been done, the sea, not yet been done, From the inside, by one who really knows; I'd give up all if I could be the one, But art comes dear the way the money goes. So I have come to sea, and I suppose Three years will teach me all I want to learn And make enough to keep me till I earn." Even as he spoke his busy pencil moved, Drawing the leap of water off the side Where the great clipper trampled iron-hooved, Making the blue hills of the sea divide, Shearing a glittering scatter in her stride, And leaping on full tilt with all sails drawing, Proud as a war-horse, snuffing battle, pawing. "I cannot get it yet--not yet," he said; "That leap and light, and sudden change to green, And all the glittering from the sunset's red, And the milky colours where the bursts have been, And then the clipper striding like a queen Over it all, all beauty to the crown. I see it all, I cannot put it down. "It's hard not to be able. There, look there! I cannot get the movement nor the light; Sometimes it almost makes a man despair To try and try and never get it right. Oh, if I could--oh, if I only might, I wouldn't mind what hells I'd have to pass, Not if the whole world called me fool and ass." Down sank the crimson sun into the sea, The wind cut chill at once, the west grew dun. "Out sidelights!" called the mate. "Hi, where is he?" The Boatswain called, "Out sidelights, damn you! Run!" "He's always late or lazing," murmured one-- "The Dauber, with his sketching." Soon the tints Of red and green passed on dark water-glints. Darker it grew, still darker, and the stars Burned golden, and the fiery fishes came. The wire-note loudened from the straining spars; The sheet-blocks clacked together always the same; The rushing fishes streaked the seas with flame, Racing the one speed noble as their own: What unknown joy was in those fish unknown! Just by the round-house door, as it grew dark, The Boatswain caught the Dauber with, "Now, you; Till now I've spared you, damn you! now you hark: I've just had hell for what you didn't do; I'll have you broke and sent among the crew If you get me more trouble by a particle. Don't you forget, you daubing, useless article!