THE island city of dominion stands
Crowned with all turrets, o’er the waters’ crest,
Throned, like the bright Cybele of the West,
And hailed with cymbals in a million hands
Around her: yet serenely she commands
The inland vision and the ocean quest,
The new-born mistress of the world’s unrest,
The beauty and the terror of the lands.
She sees the fields of harvest sown for her,
She sees the fortress set beside her gate,
Her hosts, her ships, she sees thro’ storm and fire;
And hers all gifts of gold and spice and myrrh,
And hers all hopes, all hills and shores of fate,
And hers the fame of Babylon and Tyre.


FOR good or ill, I master thy desire,
O Age and Country, making thy life mine;
I fell the forest and I lay the line,
I guide the cranes that swing the steel from fire
And flaring blast; I ride the inland flyer
Thro’ the sown fields; in earth’s vast rain and shine
I coast the sea with many a bold design,
And visit cities, climbing tower and spire,
And look abroad and say, “How strong ye are!
How ominous and wide! What new-born will
Is housed among ye, Cities near and far
By coast and river and the changeless hill!
How large your dreams, when ’neath the polar star,
The winter night lies round ye, cold and still.”


THOU shalt win victory from this dull routine
And crown thy head with laurel when ’t is won:
This sure restraint thy youth was fain to shun
Will put new manhood in thy step and mien,
And in thy words, that something strong and keen
Which comes of life when life has bravely done —
Nor wilt thou all forget the mountain sun,
Nor the wild Alps with winds and snows between.
Thou shalt win life: for thou shalt learn with awe
How life is passion, but passion self-controlled,
That flames, even as the stars, by ancient law,
Even as the stars that flame o’er field and fold,
Beyond earth’s nether coasts of gust and flaw,
Bright, beautiful, unalterable, and old.