On a Picture of Columbus

Not for one age was it given thee to be;
Out-living all in thine immortal span,
Thou wondrous, titan, godlike minded man;
Earth's little lives comparable to thee
As meadow tarns unto the mighty sea;
'Mid few great souls, create since time began,
Thy spirit ever seems to brood and scan,
Strong, self-contained, time's lone immensity.

Nor dread Atlantic did thy purpose daunt:
Scorning the trackless paths toward ocean's verge,
Thine eyes sought ever where Hesperides haunt, —
Thy spirit rode above all weak despair,
Seeing in visions gleaming coasts emerge
Out of the Wild and Limitless, waste and bare.
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