Tranquility and Tempest

At peace with the tempest,
 at the far end of the roar,
 between the wrath of white,
 and the misty blue shore,
 the wanderer now rests,
 spent right up to the core,
 the reds have paled away,
 bereft of its glorious yore...
 to slumber, my dear old friend,
 dream a rare dream,
 for tomorrow is yet another war,
 and so on until the penultimate seam...