The Sail

A single sail is bleaching brightly
  Upon the waves caressing bland,
What seeks it in a stranger country?
  Why did it leave its native strand?
When winds pipe high, load roar the billows
  And with a crashing bends the mast,
It does not shun its luckless fortune,
  Nor haste to port before the blast.
To-day the sea is clear as azure,
  The sun shines gaily, faint the wind--
But it revolting, looks for tempest,
  And dreams in storms its peace to find!