Laded deep and rolling hard?

 Never guessed, outworn and heartless,

 There was land so close aboard?

 Ice on every shroud and eyelet,

 Rocking in the windy trough?

 No more panic; Man’s your pilot;

 Turns the flood, and we are off!

 At the story of disaster,

 From the continents of sleep,

 I am come to be your master

 And put out into the deep.

 What tide current struck you hither,

 Beating up the storm of years?

 Where are those who stood to weather

 These uncharted gulfs of tears?

 Did your fellows all drive under

 In the maelstrom of the sun,

 While you only, for a wonder,

 Rode the wash you could not shun?

 We’ll crowd sail across the sea-line,—

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