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.