Classic Poem

We mount the arc of ocean's round
To meet the splendours of the sun;
Then downward rush into the dark
When the blue, spacious day is done.

The slow, eternal drift of stars
Draws over us until the dawn,
Then the grey steep we mount once more,
And night is down the void withdrawn.

Space, and interminable hours,
And moons that rise, and sweep, and fall, —
On-swinging earth, and orbed sea, —
And voyaging souls more vast than all!