Let her lie within no tropic sea, dead rotten to the bone,
Till the lisping, sluggish waters claim my vessel for their own;
Till the sun shall scar her timbers, and the slimy weed shall crawl
O'er her planks that gape and widen, and the slow sea swallow all.
Let her not go down in darkness, where the smoking mist-wreaths hide
The white signal of the breakers, dimly guessed at, overside;
While her decks are in confusion, and the wreck drops momently,
And she drifts in dark and panic to the death she cannot see.
But out in the open ocean, where the great waves call and cry,
Leap and thunder at her taffrail, while the scud blows stinging by,
With the life still strong within her, struggling onward through
the blast,
Till one last long wave shall whelm her, and our voyaging is past.
BALLADE OF DREAMS
We dreamed our dreams in full many lands,
By mount and forest, by stream and lea,
Dreams of the touch of old-time hands,
Dreams of a future destiny,
Dreams of battle and victory,
Laughter and love and wealth and fame;
Dreamers of dreams, indeed, were we—
Have the lichens yet o'ergrown our name?
Our rivers of dream had golden sands,
Our forests of Dream waved fair to see,
Our Dreamland Isles were enchanted strands
With shores of magic and mystery;
How should we dream of misery
With the blood of youth at our hearts aflame?
Dreamers of dreams, indeed, were we—
Have the lichens yet o'ergrown our name?
If a mortal now our fate demands
(We who so long forgotten be),
He shall seek in vain, for our wandering bands
Now wait here, all so dreamlessly;
O the restless hearts rest quietly,
And the fire is quenched that no frost could tame;
Dreamers of dreams, indeed, were we—
Have the lichens yet o'ergrown our name?
L'Envoi
Prince, this world is all vanity,
And dream and deed, they are still the same;
Dreamers of dreams, indeed, were we—
Have the lichens yet o'ergrown our name?