The spirit firm and swelling soul...

The spirit firm and swelling soul . . . . . . . . . Are heart of noble self-control, Sources of power transmuting danger To clarion-call to the man as whole.

'Tis courage helms the bark that's tost By wild typhoon, or swept by frost, While sailing life's surprising ocean,— Strike sail to fear and the bark is lost.

O muse, thou sing'st no siren strain To him who plows this heaven-domed main! Thy starry eyes look down all-wistful On souls that toy with a tangled skein.