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Thursday, December 28, 2017
COMMEMORATIVE OF A NAVAL VICTORY (Herman Melville)
Sailors there are of gentlest breed,
Yet strong, like every goodly thing;
The discipline of arms refines,
And the waves give tempering.
The damasked blade its beam can fling;
It lends the last grave grace;
The hawk, the hound, and sworded nobleman
In Titian's picture fore a king,
Are of hunter or warrior race.
In social halls a favored guest
In years that follow victory won,
How sweet to feel your festal fame
In woman's glance instinctive thrown;
Repose is yours---your deed is known,
It musks the amber wine;
It lives and sheds a light from storied days
Rich as October sunsets brown,
Which make the barren place to shine.
But seldom the laurel wreath is seen
Unmixed with pensive pansies dark;
There's a light and shadow on every man
Who at last attains his lifted mark---
Nursing through night the ethereal spark.
Elate he never can be;
He feels that spirits which glad had
hailed his worth, sleep in oblivion--The shark
Glides white through the phosphorous sea
Herman Melville
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