THEIR great gray ships go plunging forth; The waves, wind-wakened from the north, Swarm up their bows and fall away, And wash the air with golden spray. Far off is flung their battle-line; Far off their great guns flame and shine; And we are one with them—we rise With dawning thunder in our eyes To join the embattled hosts that kept Their pact with freedom while we slept! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |