I scan your mighty fortresses--
I scorn your splendid fleets--
I chart your chosen cities--
Trenches and lanes and streets.
No secret ’neath the heavens,
No tale of land or sea,
But bares the breast at my behest
To stand revealed to me.
I pierce the rainbow’s bending,
Uncovering fold on fold,
Till I come to the arch’s ending
Where lies the pot of gold.
I romp in the crimson sunset--
I mount the wings o’ the dawn--
I glide o’er the brakes and marshes
To laugh at the startled fawn.
Never a mark may scorn me,
From the noise of the rising quail
To the topmost peak where the eagles seek
Their home in the driving gale.
Where lies the last least wilderness
Man may not dare to know--
Where stands the unscaled mountain,
Fair crowned with virgin snow:
Where hide the hidden ages--
Where flow the golden streams--
Where lurks the land of Crœsus
Or the Lotus-land o dreams:
Up through the rushing firmament,
With never halt or toll,
I bear ye far till ye come where are
The gates of the cherished goal.
* * * * *
On the wonderful things I show you
Lucullus-like ye dine--
For the wonderful thoughts I bring you
Ye love and are wholly mine.