Constantine
Michaelides .
Are
you
the
toy of
air light ?
Have
you
no
helm
to
steer ?
A
derelict
each
air
sprite
To
every
wind
can
veer ?
Can
your
guns
slay
no
slayer
?
Your
sailors
hoist
no
sail ?
Have
you
no magic
sayer
To
conjure
up
a
gale
?
Is the
orchid
flower
your magnet ?
The
waving
grass
your
rope ?
Is
fickleness
your
signet
?
Your
only
harbour
Hope
?
Oh
Admiral , Red
Admiral,
On
what
sea
do
you
sail ?
What
wind
doth
strain
your creaking masts ?
And
whither
drives
the gale ?
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