(written Fall 1950, rewritten March 1956)

Sharp sail in cream-white curve against azure--
It is man's creature; a mind conceived it,
Creating curves on paper from calm calculations,
Plotting the wind's betrayal with scale and slide-rule.

Brought to birth in the boatyard by taciturn builders,
Framing formulas into fabric of oak and copper,
Stepping and stringing the straight spruce-shaft,
Bolting sullen lead to balance stretched canvas.

After T-square and jack-pane and patient stitching,
Tuned into tension of wire and cordage,
Keyed to the pitch of taut-straining balance,
Sensitive hand on helm inexorably guiding,

It leans in hypocritical submission to the wind's bluster,
Sliding and sidling to windward, shouldering the water,
Clean curves of shadow-striped cloth in the sunlight
Creating irrelevant beauty against blue heaven.

Nelson Francis