by John Banister Tabb
Says the Land, "O sister Sea,
Had'st thou not borne the voyagers to me,
Vain were their visions grand,
And I, e'en now, perchance, a stranger-land:
So, thine the glory be!"
Says the Sea,
Nay, brother Land;
Had'st thou not outward stretched the saving hand,
My bosom now had kept
The secret where the souls heroic slept;
'Tis in thy strength they stand!
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston