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1819–1891

GOLD

Herman Melville

We rovers bold, To the land of Gold, Over the bowling billows are gliding: Eager to toil,

For the golden spoil, And every hardship biding. See! See! Before our prows’ resistless dashes

The gold-fish fly in golden flashes! ‘ Neath a sun of gold, We rovers bold, On the golden land are gaining;

And every night, We steer aright, By golden stars unwaning! All fires burn a golden glare:

No locks so bright as golden hair! All orange groves have golden gushings; All mornings dawn with golden flushings! In a shower of gold, say fables old,

A maiden was won by the god of gold! In golden goblets wine is beaming: On golden couches kings are dreaming! The Golden Rule dries many tears!

The Golden Number rules the spheres! Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations: Gold! gold! the center of all rotations! On golden axles worlds are turning:

With phosphorescence seas are burning! All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings! Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings! With golden arrows kings are slain:

With gold we'll buy a freeman's name! In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings, At home we've slaved, with stifled yearnings: No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!

When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow. But joyful now, with eager eye, Fast to the Promised Land we fly: Where in deep mines,

The treasure shines; Or down in beds of golden streams, The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams! How we long to sift,

That yellow drift! Rivers! Rivers! cease your goings! Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide! ‘ Till we've gained the golden flowing;

And in the golden haven ride!

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GOLD · Herman Melville · Poetry Cove