Anchored forever—sea-lord once, and free—
Fouled by the creeping weeds that work unseen,
Lashed by the mocking winds that erst we braved,
Dread we the coming of the Southern night.
Stars that we tamed to guide our prows of old
Laugh in their sky of purple tapestry—
Ay, laugh: we are condemned of man to die! (Text.)
—Margaret Gardiner, Century.
(513)
CONDESCENSION