 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
253
DURANT'S ADDRESS.
ON ASCENDING WITH A BALLOON FROM CASTLE GARDEN.
“I'm for the air”—'t is sweet to fly
On silken pinions, towards the sky,
To leave a world of strife and wo
With all its follies far below;
While bending, Godlike, from my car,
Responsive to the loud huzza!
With Freedom's flag of various hue,
I wave the wondering crowds adieu!
On silken pinions, towards the sky,
To leave a world of strife and wo
With all its follies far below;
While bending, Godlike, from my car,
Responsive to the loud huzza!
With Freedom's flag of various hue,
I wave the wondering crowds adieu!
“I'm for the air”—'t is sweet to rise
Above the proud, the great, the wise;
'T is pleasant to look down and see
Admiring thousands gaze at me!
'T is transport o'er their heads to soar,
Who downward looked on me before;
Ambition's bliss must be complete,
With all the world beneath its feet!
Above the proud, the great, the wise;
'T is pleasant to look down and see
Admiring thousands gaze at me!
'T is transport o'er their heads to soar,
Who downward looked on me before;
Ambition's bliss must be complete,
With all the world beneath its feet!
“I'm for the air”—where science hath
Opened a bright effulgent path;
And though my car, this time, must sail
Obedient to the passing gale,
Have patience, and no distant day,
Shall see me steer another way;
Across the current shape my course,
Or, like the eagle, stem its force.
Opened a bright effulgent path;
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Obedient to the passing gale,
Have patience, and no distant day,
Shall see me steer another way;
Across the current shape my course,
Or, like the eagle, stem its force.
“I'm for the air”—ye sons of earth,
With spirits of ethereal birth;
Could thanks in real blessings fall,
I'd pour a deluge on you all.
But fare you well! I mount—I fly!
This, Science, is thy victory!
Hail to a scene sublimely grand!
Hail!—hail Columbia! happy land!
With spirits of ethereal birth;
Could thanks in real blessings fall,
I'd pour a deluge on you all.
But fare you well! I mount—I fly!
This, Science, is thy victory!
Hail to a scene sublimely grand!
Hail!—hail Columbia! happy land!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |