TO SYDNEY 21
NOT thine where marble-still and white Old statues share the tempered light And mock the uneven modern flight,
But in the stream Of daily sorrow and delight
To seek a theme.
I too, O friend, have steeled my heart Boldly to choose the better part, To leave the beaten ways of art,
And wholly free To dare, beyond the scanty chart,
The deeper sea.
All vain restrictions left behind, Frail bark ! I loose my anchored mind And large, before the prosperous wind
Desert the strand— A new Columbus sworn to find
The morning land,
Nor too ambitious, friend. To thee I own my weakness. Not for me To sing the enfranchised nations' glee,
Or count the cost Of warships foundered far at sea
And battles lost.