 | The Comrades |  |
I
Blithe morning; sun and sea! Zone beyond zone,Blue frolic waves and gold clouds softly blown.
One half the globe a sapphire glass which swings
Doubling the sun.
No sail. No wink of wings.
No haze of land.
No haze of land.
Look! who comes wafted here—
What lone yet all unfearful mariner?
You cannot see him? No; he mocks the sight—
Mid such immensities so mere a mite.
Look close! That tiniest speck of brownish red,
Perched on his single subtle spider-thread!
Trust, little aeronaut, thy filmy sail.
What lone yet all unfearful mariner?
You cannot see him? No; he mocks the sight—
Mid such immensities so mere a mite.
171
Perched on his single subtle spider-thread!
Blow wind! the reef and palm-tree shall not fail.
| The Comrades | |