Classic Poem

“He chases shadows,” sneered the Bristol tars.
“As well fling nets to catch the golden stars
As climb the surges of earth's utmost sea.”
But for the Venice pilot, meagre, wan,
His swarthy sons beside him, life began
With that slipt cable, when his dream rode free.

And Henry, on his battle-wrested throne,
The Councils done, would speak in musing tone
Of Cabot, not the cargo he might bring.
“Man's heart, though morsel scant for hungry crow,
Is greater than a world can fill, and so
Fair fall the shadow-seekers!” quoth the king.