Six times nine make fifty-four!
May you live years many more,
Dearest, bravest sister mine
I have loved years six times nine!
At my life-stone ten times six,
Just one lustrum nearer Styx,
Wise ones say, I've lived in vain
Through life's calm and hurricane,
All my voyage wayward sport,
With no cargo brought to port,
Save upon the barren deck
Some one rescued from a wreck.
They forget that those who hold
Cargoes, houses, bonds and gold,
Prize pursuit and gain above
All that kindlier natures love,
And must in proportion grieve
Treasures of such cost to leave;
Churls expire without a sigh,
While 't is hard for kings to die.
But to those who “think my way,
Death but ends a toilsome day.
Yet who may the story tell
Must avow my craft sailed well,
Though a battered hulk of wood,
Now but to dismantle good.
But a teak-built clipper thou!
Waves, for years, shall kiss thy prow,
And the winds their fury ply
Vainly on thy banner high.
Like Van Tromp's wild broom made fast,
It shall float while points the mast;
Woman's Rights and Woman's Wrongs
Still shall thrill thy fiery songs,
As of yore, in struggles grim
Brave hearts throbbed thy “Battle Hymn.”