IF many a daring spirit must discover The chartless world, why should they glory lack? Because athwart the skyline they sank over Few, few, the shipmen be that have come back. Yet one, wrecked oft, hath by a giddy cord The rugged head of Destiny regain'd -- One from the maelstrom's lap hath swum aboard -- One from the polar sleep himself unchain'd. And he, acquainted well with every tone Of madness whining in his shroudage slender, From storm and mutiny emerged alone Self-righted from the dreadful self-surrender: Rich from the isles where sojourn long is death Won back to cool Thames and Elizabeth, Sea-weary, yes, but human still, and whole, -- A circumnavigator of the soul. |