A Marine Nightmare

Note: Many lines of this poem are obscured in the Trove NLA archives, this record has attempted to interpret these lines below.

The whole Commonwealth fleet may be laid up.—News Item.

I dreamed last night of a phantom
    fleet,
And the soft pad, pad of a thousand
    feet,
And of ghostly eyes and rust
That reddened every sleeping ship
Of anchors held in a fearsome grip
    And a sea that had turned to dust.

I dreamed of plans, and kings, and
    clowns,
Disputing the debt to tinsel crowns
    That were gathered about the
    decks,
Of wheaten cargoes that turned to
    chaff,
Of muffled bells and a foolish
    laugh—
And a scavenger of wrecks.

I dreamed again of departing men,
The High Pooh Bah of the Cult of
    Loss,
And a sea that was no more than
    wife,
Of empty lands, and a chill east wind,
Of men with eyes that were mist-
    bow blind,
And an ebbing human tide.

Then I heard the rattle of winch
    and chain,
And I saw the ships on their way
    again,
And each had a chattering crew;
For the rising sun had cleared the
    ghosts,
And in their stead there swept yellow
    hosts.
My friends, there are ships still
    at our coasts!
And what if the dream comes true?