And I have hands to touch the hands

Of shipmates who are going

Wherever I go and the grace of knowing

That what for them is hope

Is hope for me.

I come from many times and many lands,

I look toward life and all that it shall hold,

Past bound and past divide.

And I shall be consoled

By a continent as wide

As the round invisible sky.

.... “The unseen shall become the seen....

O Celia, be my Spanish Queen!

The Genoan am I!”

And Celia cried:

“My jewels, they are yours,

Yours for the journey. Use them well.

Go find the new world, win the shores

Of which the old books tell!

.... Yet will they listen, poet? Will they sail with you?

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