Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/493

THE DISCOVERER Even now, immortal, pure,

It gains a house not made with hands,

A refuge in serener lands,

A heritage secure.

THE SAD BRIDAL

THE DISCOVERER

a little kinsman

Whose earthly summers are but three,

And yet a voyager is he

Greater than Drake or Frobisher,

Than all their peers together!

He is a brave discoverer,

And, far beyond the tether

Of them who seek the frozen Pole,

Has sailed where the noiseless surges roll.

Ay, he has travelled whither

A winged pilot steered his bark

Through the portals of the dark, 463