Seems the world a crowded place, Brother with the gloomy face? All the noble actions done, Battles fought and races run? All the workshops overfull, Twenty men to every tool? Mortgages on all the land, Not a spot where you can stand? Think, my brother! of the earth Solid land is but a fourth. Would you tilt with fortune's lance? There are oceans of a chance! Crowded though the world may be, There's no mortgage on the sea. Launch your ship and outward steer; No impatient jostling here! Icy winds and yawning waves, Lonely skies and lonely graves, Yet the air is fresh and good, And the water swarms with food, And the waves, if you are bold, Leap with silver and with gold. Seems the world a pack of men? Think, my brother, think again! See what superficial toil Rakes the merest rind of soil. Underneath earth's shallow skin, What unmeasured wealth to win! Where the many never go, Sapphires shine and rubies glow. Sink a shaft from any town, There are treasures deeper down. Black it is and choking here, And the deadly gas to fear; But those jewels have a light For the dark of any night, And the upper world is far Where the clash and frenzies are, And its mad contentions cease In these galleries of peace. All the earth pre-empted lies? Think, my brother, of the skies! Endless leagues of waiting air, What imperial chances there! On the smallest plot of ground Room for tallest towers is found. From a barnyard's narrow pale Any air-ship may set sail. Not the shrewdest millionaire Ever can buy up the air. Free the franchise here for aye, Any one has right of way. Up, my brother! Lag nor stop! Room is ample -- at the top! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE DEFILED SANCTUARY by WILLIAM BLAKE TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON by JOHN CLEVELAND THE FINDING OF THE LYRE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE BELLE OF THE BALL by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED |