To him the fate we bear was like a sea That sweeps above the many ships that sailed, And waits as home for all that sail again. Bitter intolerably, and deep as death; But shining, too, shining and full of spray, In color stained lovelier than the sky, Singing a requiem for them that die Adventuring on its bounds, or, dauntless, sing When roaring and inevitable wash Heaves down the prows. . . . His heart was full of stars, His prayers only to gods that deathlessly Abide and dream no sin. And Syracuse That builded on the sea, loved his name most. |