  I look upon the ocean. Far away, A fleet of thunder-clouds is sailing by. High in mid heaven the aËrial canvas swells, And proudly scorns the breeze’s proffered aid; Instinct with its own spirit’s breath of life, That bears it onward in its majesty: While ever and anon the signal flash From van, and rear, and centre, tells of might Resistless. Stern, and slow, and dark, and grand, Its shadows sweep o’er ocean’s heaving billows; While avant couriers, on the lightning’s wing, Herald its coming to the distant realms Beyond the horizon’s verge. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
|
