Classic Poem

Aloha! Wahwah! Quelle raison?
Ship ahoy! What sails are these?
What tuneful Orpheus, what Jason
Courts Colchis and her Golden Fleece?
For never since the oak-keeled Argo
Such sweet chords, such kingly cargo.

Never since the mad Magellan
Dared the Philippines and died,
Did these boundless billows swell in
Such surprised and saucy pride.
Are they laughing, chaffing at you?
Waiting but to bang and bat you?

Doughty Vikings, dauntless Norsemen,
White-maned stallions plunge and fret;
Ride them, ride them, daring horsemen,
Ride or perish in . . . . the wet!
Galleons, doubloons galore
Paved of old this proud sea floor!

Carabellos, caballeros!
Where your boasted Totus Munda?
Chile carne con tamales. . . .
And the bull-fight of a Sunday!
That is all there is to say
Of all your yesterdays, today.

Heed my heroes, heed the story;
Gone the argent galleon;
Gone the gold and gone the glory,
Gone the gaudy, haughty Don.
His sword, his pride, sleep side by side,
Nor reck, at all, yond ebb or tide.

Ye who buckle on bright armor,
Read and heed nor boast at all
Till ye have worn it warm and warmer,
Fronting pride that runs to fall.
And heed, my heroes, where away
We all, a span of years today?

But welcome, walls of flame and thunder,
Isles of steel and miles of launches!
Welcome to these seas of wonder,
Men of war with olive branches;
Welcome to dear Crusoe's seas,
These sundown seas, this sun-born breeze.

Welcome to the oldest, newest!
Here God's spirit moved upon
The waters, these the broadest, bluest,
Ere that sudden burst of dawn
Dividing day from primal night,
When He said, " Let there be light. "

But, beware the wild tornadoes!
Entre nous , they are terrific!
Scout that dago's gay bravados!
Cut that silly name, Pacific!
Balboa, wading to his knees,
Cried: " Lo, the calm, pacific seas! "

Straightway Cortez hewed his head off!
Nay, blame not, accuse nor cavil.
Spite of all that has been said of
He should have hewed it to the navel;
Aye, cut his neck off to his knees,
For naming these " Pacific Seas! "

Pacific? No, American!
Her go, her get there, gown or gun!
Her British, " Get, and keep who can, "
All places, races, rolled in one.
Pacific Ocean? Mild of motion?
Never such a silly notion!

So, beware the sometimes tidal
Wave Tahitian, where bananas
Bathe; where fig-leafed parties bridal
Dine in tree-tops on mananas!
Samoa's typhoons, too, beware —
Her mermaids combing kinky hair.

Aye, tidals, typhoons, 'clones beware!
But when you touch sea-set Nippon,
Where lift three thousand isles mid-air,
And each an Eden dear as dawn,
With dimpled Eves and dainty elves —
Why, then beware your bloomin' selves.