These were the men of the restless heart;—
The brothers to wind and tide;—
They followed the lure of the far away,
And they saw a vision by night and day,
Of lands that were free and wide.
They blazed the long and desolate trail,
And set their mark on the trees;
And sometimes only the star of the North,
Guided their little, lone ships that set forth
Upon the uncharted seas.
They marked a road through the shifting sand
Where never a road had led,—
And beneath the pavilions of the sky,
In a deep and abiding peace they lie
With the world forgotten dead.
The ice of the Arctic shut them in
And locked its crystalline doors;—
Or it may be a tide that was hot, and slow,
Drifted them in where sea-grasses grow,
On sun-bleached tropical shores.
They journeyed beyond the shadow of fear,
And past the ghost of despair;—
On the coasts of coral they made their bed,
Or they fell asleep where the ground was red,
And grey wings shadowed the air.
High adventurers! Gentlemen all!
Knights of the golden code;—
That we might ride softly, you rode hard,—
That we might go safely,— you without guard
Followed the perilous road!