Classic Poem

Forth on a venturous voyage I went,
When young, and full of ardent schemes,
To seek some isle or continent
Swathed in a purer element —
Foreshadowed in my daily dreams
I knew a small and favoured band
Had crossed the intervening sea;
Gifted in soul, had reached the strand,
Had roamed and revelled in the land,
The golden land of Poesy.

They brought from that delicious clime
Rare things, and beautiful withal;
They told, in lofty, living rhyme,
Of many a spectacle sublime, —
Of pleasures that can never pall, —
Of odorous flowers, and fruits that twine
Together on one parent tree, —
Of magic sounds, — of shapes that shine
From light within, and make divine
That golden land of Poesy.

My bark was Hope, all gaily dight,
My crew were Passions, good and ill, —
Some ready with the waves to fight,
Obedient to the rule of right,
And some rebellious to my will;
I had no helm wherewith to steer,
No chart whereby my way to see,
No compass guiding my career
To that resplendent hemisphere,
The golden land of Poesy.

My task was sterner than I deemed,
For scornful voices filled the air;
Storms rose, and lightnings round me gleamed, —
Rude winds and angry waters seemed
To threaten danger and despair;
My crew, impatient of control,
Were mutinous for liberty;
But the best instincts of my soul
Still led me onwards towards the goal, —
The golden land of Poesy.

At length, oh, joy! the enchanted shore
Loomed up in far-off loveliness,
And I grew eager to explore
The wondrous realm; my tears ran o'er
With very gladness of success.
Odours of spices and of flowers
Came on the breezes, blowing free;
Rich branches reft from gorgeous bowers
Bestrewed the wave; — the land was ours, —
The golden land of Poesy! —

Not yet! a barrier crossed my way, —
My shrinking vessel back recoiled;
I could not reach the sheltering bay,
For rocks and shoals about me lay,
And winds opposed, and waters boiled
Thus baffled by the Poet-god,
I only brought — alas for me! —
Some waifs and strays from that bright sod
Which I have seen, but have not trod, —
The golden land of Poesy!

May I not now my hopes renew? —
Must failure teach me to be wise?
Meseems I was not of the few
Destined to " feed on honey-dew,
And drink the milk of Paradise. "
Must I content me with the gain
Which loftier spirits bring to me, —
They who are privileged to reign
Lords of that far and fair domain,
The golden land of Poesy?

Perchance 'twere best; albeit that fame
Is a rich guerdon to forego;
To win a Bard's exalted name,
Hailed by a nation's high acclaim,
Is an endowment few can know.
But let me, then, for solace' sake
Send my thoughts thither, fancy-free, —
Dream that I follow in the wake
Of those who hasten to partake
The golden land of Poesy!