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NEW WORLD AND OLD GLORY
Dear Land of All My Love
Long as thy science truth shall know,
Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow.
From The Centennial Ode" (1876).
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the gates of Hercules;
Before him only shoreless seas.
*From "Poems of Sidney Lanier," copyright 1891, and published by Charles Scribner's Sons.
+From "The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller" (copyrighted). By permission of the publishers, The WhitakerRay Company, San Francisco.
The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
Why, say: 'Sail on, sail on! and on!'"
"My men grow mutinous day by day;
My men grow ghastly wan and weak.”
If we sight not but seas at dawn?”
6 Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!""
They sailed and sailed as winds might blow,
Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
For God from these dread seas is gone.
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night;
He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite:
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word;
The words leapt as a leaping sword: "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights! And then a speck
A light! a light! a light! a light! It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world; he gave that world Its greatest lesson: "On! sail on!"
and Old Glory
Wearied arm and broken sword
Through the wilderness resounds,
Now they heap the funeral pyre,
And the torch of death they light;
Ah! 'tis hard to die by fire!
Who will shield the captive knight?
New World and Old Glory
Round the stake with fiendish cry
Who will shield the fearless heart?
Dauntlessly aside she flings
Lifted axe and thirsty knife,
Still 'tis told by Indian fires
Saved a captive Englishman.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
In silence and in fear:
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
Amidst the storm they sang;
And the stars heard, and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the Anthem of the Free.
The ocean eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared,This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band:
New World and Old Glory