FAILURE TRIUMPHANT
How many a captain wave, since sea began,
Has lordly led the charge against the shore,
Whose crest a jewelled plume of rainbow bore,
As iris Hope arches the march of Man:
How many a wave, brave-glittering in the van,
Has melted as a cloud in spray and roar—
A flashing column prone, and next, no more!
So runs the tale, since Time’s first sand outran.
So ends the antique tale. Stay! ends it so?
Though every billow faint into a ghost,
The all-embracing ocean—that gives birth,
Receives, and recreates—in ebb and flow,
A vast sky-coupled Mystery round the coast,
Works out its will upon the face of earth.