To Laurence Binyon

Man is a shadow's dream! Opulent Pindar saith: Yet man may win a gleam Of glory, before death.

Saith golden Shakespeare: Man Is a dream's shadow! Yet, Though death do all death can, His soul toward life is set.

I, living with delight This rich autumnal day, Mark the gulls' curving flight Across the black-girt bay.

And the sea's working men, The fisher-folk, I mark Haul down their boats, and then Launch for the deep sea dark.

Far out the strange ships go: Their broad sails flashing red As flame, or white as snow: The ships, as David said.

Winds rush and waters roll: Their strength, their beauty, brings Into mine heart the whole Magnificence of things:

That men are counted worth A part upon this sea, A part upon this earth, Exalts and heartens me.

Ah, Glaucus, soul of man! Encrusted by each tide, That, since the seas began, Hath surged against thy side:

Encumbering thee with weed, And tangle of the wave! Yet canst thou rise at need, And thy strong beauty save!

Tides of the world in vain Desire to vanquish thee: Prostrate, thou canst again Rise, lord of earth and sea:

Rise, lord of sea and earth, And winds, and starry night. Thine is the greater birth And origin of light.