Rose, or the church-bells rang, or men awoke.
And then, in the first light, to see grow clear
That long-expected haven filled with strangers--
Alive with men and women; see and hear
Its clattering market and its money-changers;
And hear the surf beat, and be free from dangers,
And watch the crinkled ocean blue with calm
Drowsing beneath the Trade, beneath the palm.
Hungry for that he worked; the hour went by,
And still the wind grew, still the clipper strode,