I cross the sea, and soon I find
Europa’s golden coast—
The Spanish pride;—the English tar
Makes well his frequent boast.
VI.
I love the clime of Africa—
The dark man’s native home;
I love that central, torrid zone
Wherever I may roam.
I also love the Northern pole—
Auroras glisten there—
I love the regions still and cold,
The icebergs standing bare.
The water trickling down their sides—
I waft them towards the south;
The walrus suns him as we go,
And opes his giant mouth.
I love to sway the trees in spring
When all in green they stand,—
In winter do I move their boughs
While roaming o’er the land.
Sometimes I frolic round about
Between the earth and sky;
And it is true where’er I go
A jolly one am I.
I love to whirl the storm around
And roar out ev’rywhere,
And superstitious people, too,
I often sadly scare.
I’ve seen fair Eden’s leafy trees—
I’ve seen the first of man,
And I shall see the last of him—
I saw how he began.