Old John à Venice in his cockleshell
Breasted the salt sea like an Englishman!
He saw the bleak coast of the Tartar Khan
To left-hand in the distance. “All is well!”
He cried to Labrador. The roaring swell
Bore him to shore, whereon his hands upran
The Lion flag and flag republican
Of the old Doges’ wave-girt citadel.
Dominion and Democracy are ours!
From the first day unto the last we hold