160 165 170 175 180 185 190 195 Where the tumbling surf, O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar, Day by day the vessel grew, With timbers fashioned strong and true, And around the bows and along the side And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing, And overflowed With the black tar, heated for the sheathing. Of clattering hammers, He who listened heard now and then The song of the Master and his men : 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 "Build me straight, O worthy Master, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!" With oaken brace and copper band, That, like a thought, should have control And near it the anchor, whose giant hand. Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast! By a cunning artist carved in wood, But modeled from the Master's daughter. "T will be seen by the rays of the signal light, 235 240 245 250 255 260 265 Lay the snow, They fell, those lordly pines! 'Mid shouts and cheers The jaded steers, Panting beneath the goad, Dragged down the weary, winding road To feel the stress and the strain Of the wind and the reeling main, Would remind them for evermore Of their native forests they should not see again. And everywhere The slender, graceful spars Poise aloft in the air, And at the mast-head, White, blue, and red, A flag unrolls the Stripes and Stars. Ah! when the wanderer, lonely, friendless, In foreign harbors shall behold That flag unrolled, "T will be as a friendly hand Stretched out from his native land, Filling his heart with memories sweet and endless! All is finished! and at length Has come the bridal day Of beauty and of strength. To-day the vessel shall be launched! With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 270 275 280 285 290 295 300 The ocean old, Centuries old, Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, Up and down the sands of gold. With ceaseless flow, His beard of snow Heaves with the heaving of his breast. He waits impatient for his bride. With her foot upon the sands, Decked with flags and streamers gay, Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, Round her like a veil descending, 305 310 315 320 325 330 335 The shepherd of that wandering flock, Of the sailor's heart, All its pleasures and its griefs, And lift and drift, with terrible force, Therefore he spake, and thus said he :- And climb the crystal wall of the skies, As if we could slide from its outer brink. It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, That rock and rise With endless and uneasy motion, Now sinking into the depths of ocean. To the toil and the task we have to do, |