you captains, voyagers, explorers, yours,
you engineers, you architects, machinists, yours,
you, not for trade or transportation only,
but in god's name, and for thy sake o soul.
a batter'd, e shore, far, far from home,
pent by the sea and dark rebellious broh to death,
i take my the island's edge,
venting a heavy heart.
i am too full of and croils of my youth,
thou knoe ratified all those vorace, repining not,
accepting all from thee, as duly come from thee.
all my emprises have been fill'd un and carried on in thoughts of thee,
sailing the deep or journeying the land for thee;
intentions, purports, aspirations mine, leaving results to thee.
o i am sure they really came from thee,
the urge, the ardor, the unconquerable er than e from the heavens to me even in sleep,
these sped me on.
by me and these the reat i know not—haply what broad fields, what lands,
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