_To Laurence Binyon._
_Man is a shadow's dream!_
Opulent Pindar saith:
Yet man may win a gleam
Of glory, before death.
Saith golden Shakespeare: _Man
Is a dream's shadow!_ Yet,
Though death do all death can,
His soul toward life is set.
I, living with delight
This rich autumnal day,
Mark the gulls' curving flight
Across the black-girt bay.
And the sea's working men,
The fisher-folk, I mark
Haul down their boats, and then
Launch for the deep sea dark.
Far out the strange ships go:
Their broad sails flashing red
As flame, or white as snow:
The ships, as David said.
Winds rush and waters roll:
Their strength, their beauty, brings
Into mine heart the whole
Magnificence of things:
That men are counted worth
A part upon this sea,
A part upon this earth,
Exalts and heartens me.
Ah, Glaucus, soul of man!
Encrusted by each tide,
That, since the seas began,
Hath surged against thy side:
Encumbering thee with weed,
And tangle of the wave!
Yet canst thou rise at need,
And thy strong beauty save!
Tides of the world in vain
Desire to vanquish thee:
Prostrate, thou canst again
Rise, lord of earth and sea:
Rise, lord of sea and earth,
And winds, and starry night.
Thine is the greater birth
And origin of light.
1892.