The Seven Seas

The Cities are full of pride, Challenging each to each- This from her mountain-side, That from her burthened beach. They count their ships full tale- Their corn and oil and wine, Derrick and loom and bale, And rampart's gun-flecked line
City by city they hail: "Hast aught to match with mine?" And the men that breed from them They traffic up and down, But cling to their cities' hem As a child to the mother's gown. When they talk with the stranger bands, Dazed and newly alone
When they walk in the stranger lands, By roaring streets unknown
Blessing her where she stands For strength above their own. (On high to hold her fame That stands all fame beyond, By oath to back the same, Most faithful-foolish-fond
Making her mere-breathed name Their bond upon their bond.) So thank I God my birth Fell not in isles aside- Waste headlands of the earth, Or warring tribes untried- But that she lent me worth And gave me right to pride.