Proudly the flood comes in, shouting, foaming, advancing, Long it holds at the high, with bosom broad outswelling, All throbs, dilates -- the farms, woods, streets of cities -- workmen at work, Mainsails, topsails, jibs, appear in the offing -- steamers' pennants of smoke -- and under the forenoon sun, Freighted with human lives, gaily the outward bound, gaily the inward bound, Flaunting from many a spar the flag I love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUT NOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |