Fanfare

 

O Mistress of the sea;

You tower to the skyline,

Three masted majesty.

You wait bridled buoyantly,

To swiftly fly through salted brine,

Freedom's breath caught in your canopy.

 

Tall ships, regal schooners groomed,

Life's portal waits to skip

Through waves fair found womb.

Your place running over surf's comb

Of tidal flow; windswept ship

Privileged emissary fleetingly at home.

 

"Challenge," breaks gently from her berth,

Noses outward seeking ocean breeze,

Where mains'l billows with mirth.

Who is master? Who is crew? Who shall please

The demands of heaving surf?

Racing keenly with playful glee.

 

Are you content to ply your trade?

At city's edge all trussed,

To briefly dip your mizzen'd brow,

To carry the innocent, not so adventurous.

How soon your sheet unfurled must fade!

Wrapped secure while anchor weighed.

 

The sky's crest beckons you to leap,

To sail from shore to shore, and keep

Your wings of canvas spread,

Below the billowing clouds that head

Before the watery path, a comfort

Or tempest that will share your sport.

 

Toronto's harbour sits aside

A teeming gateway so wide;

A pathway of traders who once plied

Their goods, their riches to all who spied

Their crafts, like golden Argos fired

With breath of ocean spirit inspired.

 

The sights that wait the passenger,

The breath of freshly salted air;

Lift up man's earthen affair,

Provide release, nurture and care,

That carry a panorama beyond the destined stair,

Spread of blue, where sea and sky merger.