To The Master Of The Meteor
Lonesome on earth's loneliest deep,Sailor! who dost thy vigil keep—Off the Cape of Storms dost musing sweepOver monstrous waves that curl and comb;Of thee we think when here from brinkWe blow the mead in bubbling foam.Of thee we think, in a ring we link;To the shearer of ocean's fleece we drink,And the Meteor rolling home.
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