Where lives he? -- that inventive one For whom the world is waiting -- where? The ether's future Stephenson, The coming conqueror of the air? And has he found the secret yet, The solvent thought, whate'er it be? May the explorer not forget That mystic Open Sesame! And will he sail with mighty wing, Or vast balloon, or whirling fan? Or will it be a startling thing On some unprecedented plan? And when the deed is brought to pass And men are taught the way to fly, Must all our railroads go to grass And all our commerce seek the sky? I do not know; but this I know, -- Whatever bulk the thought attain, It must begin and slowly grow From one wee notion in the brain; Some quick idea swiftly caught And stoutly held with iron grip While patience labors on the thought And firmness will not let it slip. For never on a gale of luck Shall his fine air-ship come to port; Its keel is grit, its sails are pluck, The hurricane it dares to court! Its captain, whosoe'er he be, Has counted cowardice a sin, Has found the air a stormy sea, Has learned to struggle and to win! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 13 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BLIGHTERS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON WAYCONNELL TOWER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM FINDING CYNTHIA IN PAIN, AND CRYING; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES |