THOU who hast slept all night upon the storm, Waking renewâ€™d on thy prodigious pinions, (Burst the wild storm? above it thou ascendedâ€™st, And rested on the sky, thy slave that cradled thee,) Now a blue point, far, far in heaven floating, As to the light emerging here on deck I watch thee, (Myself a speck, a point on the worldâ€™s floating vast.)
Far, far at sea, After the nightâ€™s fierce drifts have strewn the shores with wrecks, With re-appearing day as now so happy and serene, The rosy and elastic dawn, the flashing sun, The limpid spread of air cerulean, Thou also re-appearest.
Thou born to match the gale, (thou art all wings,) To cope with heaven and earth and sea and hurricane, Thou ship of air that never furlâ€™st thy sails, Days, even weeks untired and onward, through spaces, realms gyrating, At dusk that lookâ€™st on Senegal, at morn America, That sportâ€™st amid the lightning-flash and thunder-cloud, In them, in thy experience, hadâ€™st thou my soul, What joys! what joys were thine!