| |
| THEY were islanders, our fathers were, | |
| And they watched the encircling seas, | |
| And their hearts drank in the ceaseless stir, | |
| And the freedom of the breeze; | |
| Till they chafed at their narrow bounds | 5 |
| And longed for the sweep of the main, | |
| And they fretted and fumed like hounds | |
| Held in within sight of the plain, | |
| And the play | |
| And the prey. | 10 |
| |
| So they built them ships of wood, and sailed | |
| To many an unknown coast; | |
| They braved the storm and battles hailed, | |
| And danger they loved most; | |
| Till the tiny ships of wood | 15 |
| Grew powerful on the globe, | |
| And the new-found lands for good | |
| They wrapped in a wondrous robe | |
| Of bold design, | |
| Our brave ensign. | 20 |
| |
| And islanders yet in a way are we, | |
| Our knowledge is still confined, | |
| And we hear the roar of encircling sea, | |
| To be crossed in the ship of the mind; | |
| And we dream of lands afar, | 25 |
| Unknown, unconquered yet, | |
| And we chafe at the bounds there are, | |
| And our spirits fume and fret | |
| For the prize | |
| Of the wise. | 30 |
| |
| But we ’ll never do aught, I know, unless | |
| We are brave as our sires of old, | |
| And face like them the bitterness | |
| Of the battle and storm and cold; | |
| Unless we boldly stand, | 35 |
| When men would hold us back, | |
| With the helm-board in our hand, | |
| And our eyes to the shining track | |
| Of what may be | |
| Beyond the sea. | 40 |
| |
| There are rocks out there in that wide, wide sea, | |
| ’Neath many a darkling stream, | |
| And souls that once sailed out bold and free | |
| Have been carried away in a dream; | |
| For they never came back again— | 45 |
| On the deep the ships were lost; | |
| But in spite of the danger and pain, | |
| The ocean has still to be crossed, | |
| And only they do | |
| Who are brave and true. | 50 |
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