Voyagers, by Madison Cawein

  Where are they, that song and tale
    Tell of? lands our childhood knew?
  Sea-locked Faerylands that trail
    Morning summits, dim with dew,
  Crimson o'er a crimson sail.

  Where in dreams we entered on
    Wonders eyes have never seen:
  Whither often we have gone,
    Sailing a dream-brigantine
  On from voyaging dawn to dawn.

  Leons seeking lands of song;
    Fabled fountains pouring spray;
  Where our anchors dropped among
    Corals of some tropic bay,
  With its swarthy native throng.

  Shoulder ax and arquebus!—
    We may find it!—past yon range
  Of sierras, vaporous,
    Rich with gold and wild and strange
  That lost region dear to us.

  Yet, behold, although our zeal
    Darien summits may subdue,
  Our Balboa eyes reveal
    But a vaster sea come to—
  New endeavor for our keel.

  Yet! who sails with face set hard
    Westward,—while behind him lies
  Unfaith,—where his dreams keep guard
    Round it, in the sunset skies,
  He may reach it—afterward.