Classic Poem

Enough : you have the dream, the flame;
Free it henceforth:
The South has given you a name;—
Now for the North.

Unsheathe your ship from where she lies,
In narrow ease;
Fling out her sails to the tall skies,
Flout the sharp seas.

Beyond bleak headlands wistful burn
Warm lights of home;
In shutting darkness frays astern,
Far-spun, the foam.

Come wide sea-dawns, that empty are
Of wet sea sand;
Come eves, that lay beneath a star
No lull of land.

And whether on faint iris wings
Of fancy borne,
Or blown and breathed, the south wind brings
So much to mourn!

The deep wood-shadows, they that drew
So softly near;
The violets all veined with blue,
Be strong, and steer!

There is a silence to be found,
And rested in;
A stillness out of thought, where sound
Can never win.

There is a peace, beyond the stir
Of wind or wave;
A sleeping, where high stars confer
Over the brave.

The south winds come, the south winds go,
Caressing, dear;
Northward is silence, and white snow,
Be strong, and steer!

For in that silence, waiting, lies,
Untroubled, true;
Oh, eager, clear—like love in eyes
The soul of you.