1 City of kith and kin, farewell! It will be months, it may be years, Ere once again, through wanderer's tears, I hail thy beauty -- who can tell? Away! the westward-rolling sun Beckons us, we are his perforce; Him must we follow in his course; Across a continent we run. The Alleghanies, white with snow, The Mississippi's mighty flood, The prairies, with their tales of blood, We reach, we pass them, as we go. Away -- away! The rumbling car Flies onward toward the Golden Gate; Before me lands untraveled wait, Behind me friends and kinsmen are. 2 Behind me kinsmen are and friends, The mighty ocean lies before, To-morrow from this rock-bound shore Its waves shall bear me to earth's ends. O heart, almost, in this last hour, Thou seek'st to evade my cherished plan To view the varied lands where man Displays his civilizing power. O feet, that foreign soil ne'er pressed, Almost ye dread my dear design To cross that far meridian's line Which separates the East from West. Hard is 't to part; and, mother dear, Hardest of all to part from thee; For since I sat upon thy knee My life to thine has followed near. 3 The bell strikes noon; I hear the sound Of farewell voices in the air; And out the bay we go to where The vast Pacific rims us round. Tumultuous sea! Perhaps, far south, In other latitudes, where came The adventurous Spaniard first, thy name Is no misnomer; but the mouth That here salutes thee Peaceful errs: E'en as the Atlantic's boisterous rage, Which wreck and ruin doth presage, Is thine, and oft thy passion stirs. Blow, blow, ye gales! Anon we flee, Sail set, before your wintry smiles; Anon we breast your buffets, whiles A boiling caldron is the sea. 4 The tempest all the welkin fills, And fury stirs the mighty main, Upbroken is the ocean-plain Into innumerable hills. The decks are wet; upon the bridge I see the bearded captain stand; A son of Britain's sea-girt land, He loves to leap from ridge to ridge. The decks are wet; day after day Through frenzied winds and waves we steer; But singing at their work I hear The hardy sailors of Cathay. And though at night above my berth Fall -- many a ton in weight -- the seas, I lay me down with mind at ease, And sleep as on the solid earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH SMALL COUNTRIES by JAMES GALVIN DAWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON I WANT TO LIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 11 by JAMES JOYCE |