From barren dunes to great festoons
A festive haven grew;
The faithful came from far and wide
To sunbathe through and through,
Till countrywide the elders cried
“There is the finest view!”
The race not done, the race not won,
The swimmer swam some more:
On public stage, in gifted plays,
They heard the lion roar,
In words that melted stoic pride
And cooked the molten core.
Of deeds long past and deeds to come
This life to live was one.
With bugles blown and banners flown
The laurels he had won…
Then came the whisper of the moon:
“Your mission here is done.”
So gathered round the foredeck all
By sail to wail and weep,
They bear the harvest bounty that
The starry sea will reap,
And thus commit the Titan and
His glory to the Deep.