We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship, br although it meant the end of travel. br Although it stood stock-still like cloudy rock br and all the sea were moving marble. br We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship; br we'd rather own this breathing plain of snow br though the ship's sails were laid upon the sea br as the snow lies undissolved upon the water. br O solemn, floating field, br are you aware an iceberg takes repose br with you, and when it wakes may pasture on your snows? br br This is a scene a sailor'd give his eyes for. br The ship's ignored. The iceberg rises br and sinks again; its glassy pinnacles br correct elliptics in the sky. br This is a scene where he who treads the boards br is artlessly rhetorical. The curtain br is light enough to rise on finest ropes br that airy twists of snow provide. br The wits of these white peaks br spar with the sun. Its weight the iceberg dares br upon a shifting stage and stands and stares. br br The iceberg cuts its facets from within. br Like jewelry from a grave br it saves itself perpetually and adorns br only itself, perhaps the snows br which so surprise us lying on the sea. br Good-bye, we say, good-bye, the ship steers off br where waves give in to one another's waves br and clouds run in a warmer sky. br Icebergs behoove the soul br (both being self-made from elements least visible) br to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected indivisible.