Yea! even such as creep With eyes bent earthward, in the little space Between the dawn and waning of the day, Between a sleep and sleep: Even these, without a fixed abiding-place, Travel, though tardily, upon the way Labouring; while your lighter, swifter sail Soars, rising over sudden hills of foam, Exultant, through the storm; and, eager, flies Like a fleet swallow up to meet the gale, That drives with anger, through the heaven's dome, Clouds, like great silver galleons in a sea of skies.
For every man, and each, Is like a venture putting forth to sea, Voyaging into unknown ways to find Kindlier lands; and urges on to reach Kingdoms which there may be Hidden the grey gloom of the sea behind: Fabulous kingdoms piled with golden toil And the slow garnering of mortal dreams: Such as lured forth the splendid sails of Spain. So, journeying, we, in hope of that great spoil, Steer hardily through all conflicting streams Of Ocean, and count all the exultant battling gain.
