No man hath stood, all its bleak, bitter years on it --
Fall of a foot on its wastes is unknown:
Only the sound of the hurricane's spears on it
Breaks with the shout from the uttermost zone.
Blind are its bays with the shadow of bale on them;
Storms of the nadir their rocks have uphurled;
Earthquake hath registered deeply its tale on them --
Tale of distress from the dawn of the world!
~There~ are the gaps, with the surges that seethe in them --
Gaps in whose jaws is a menace that glares!
~There~ the wan reefs, with the merciless teeth in them,
Gleam on a chaos that startles and scares!
Back in the dawn of this beautiful sphere, on it --
Land of the dolorous, desolate face --
Beamed the blue day; and the bountiful year on it
Fostered the leaf and the blossom of grace.
Grand were the lights of its midsummer noon on it --
Mornings of majesty shone on its seas;
Glitter of star and the glory of moon on it
Fell, in the march of the musical breeze.
Valleys and hills, with the whisper of wing in them,
Dells of the daffodil -- spaces impearled,
Flowered and flashed with the splendour of Spring in them --
Back in the morn of this wonderful world.
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