1891.
CADGWITH.
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.