FROM sea to sea our steamer glides,

The Adriatic laves her sides,

Her engines, deep pulsating, beat,

A throbbing heart of fire and heat;

Its freight of human hearts to bear

With good and ill as time doth wear.

Still changeful as the changing seas

Beneath the wayward winds’ increase,

Or like the bird that eastward flies,

Our thoughts fare backward with our eyes

Which still the blue Ægean holds;

Round Grecian isles its cincture folds,

Where on Sunium falls the light,

And carves anew the columns white;

Where the gulf of Nauplia fills

The sculptured sides of Argos’ hills;

Fair gardens rich and trees arow,

Where yet in waking dreams one sees

The Apples of Hesperides,

With but the gleaming scales between

Of water in the sunsets’ sheen.

Past the twinkling lights that show,

Like stars to mock celestial glow,

And light us back to antique ground—

To Tiryn’s buried ruins found,

And Agamemnon’s house of old,

With treasures of MykenÆ’s gold,

Where stands the lion-guarded gate,

To keep the city’s shattered state,

Among the lonely hills forgot

Of ages long, as it were not.

Hill and dale dissolving glide,

As the winged wheels swiftly slide,

By NemÆan crags that still

The legendary echoes fill.

Or by Corinth’s fortressed steep,

And shattered temple, still that keep

The record of her ancient fame,

Her glory past into a name.

What oracle from Delphi hear?

Speaks no more the god of light?

Doth he no word to men indite?

Yea, day by day his arrows’ flight

Behold! Dividing dark and bright,

Till they strike Athena’s fanes—

Still upon the rock she reigns,

Though, alas! Her house of state,

Empty is, and desolate:

Fair still her shrine of marble shines,

Whenas the sun-like moon defines

With opal lights and shadows blue

That well nigh build the temple new,

Which day by day o’erlays with gold

As in the sun’s bright flame of old.

Many a morn and eve have we

Watched him rise and set at sea,

His foaming steeds with tossing crests

Turn fire the watery way they breast,

Where dolphins leaping drive the spray

Before them in their wanton play.

What if the ancient gods no more

Are seen of men on sea or shore?

What if a sterner creed and cold

Did drive them from the Temple’s fold?

Or pride of rule, or curse of gold,

Do blind men’s eyes to all save gain,

And beauty pleads with them in vain?

Though greed would all the earth degrade

And see the world a market made,

And drive the peasant from his soil,

And lay the yoke of hopeless toil

Upon the millions seeking bread,

To art and love and beauty dead;

Not all has gone while these have hold

In some true hearts not bought and sold.

Though fallen, AphroditÉ’s shrines

Still through the opal wave she shines,

Or, veiled in light doth sail the blue

Where breaks the foam in iris hue;

And still from dangerous rocks is heard

The siren’s song Odysseus feared,

Far wandering from his sea-girt home

In Ithaca across the foam.

The same stars shine above his head

As watch us on our rocking bed;

As turned his thoughts to child and wife,

And homestead dear, and pleasant life;

So, tossing on the houseless seas

Sweet thoughts of home our hearts do please.