The Winds that once the Argo bore
Have died by Neptune’s ruined shrines,
And her hull is the drift of the deep-sea floor,
Though shaped of Pelion’s tallest pines.
You may seek her crew on every isle
Fair in the foam of Ægean seas,
But out of...
Edna Dean Proctor
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A Granite cliff on either shore,
A highway poised in air;
Above, the wheels of traffic roar,
Below, the fleets sail fair;—
And in and out forevermore,
The surging tides of ocean pour,
And past the towers the white gulls soar,
And... -
Now summer finds her perfect prime;
Sweet blows the wind from western calms;
On every bower red roses climb;
The meadows sleep in mingled balms.
Nor stream, nor bank the wayside by,
But lilies float and daisies throng;
Nor space of blue and... -
We are the Ancient People;
Our father is the Sun;
Our mother, the Earth, where the mountains tower
And the rivers seaward run;
The stars are the children of the sky,
The red men of the plain;
And ages over us both had rolled
Before...