Classic Poem

When the train cross'd the sea, 'mid shouts of joy,
And the huge sea-pillars dash'd away the tide,
Awhile the power of song seem'd vague, beside
Those vast mechanics, mighty to convoy
A length of cars high over flood and ooze;
But the brief thought was feeble and unwise:
No season'd oak is stronger than the Muse,
For all the great cross-beams, and clamps, and ties.
Brave songs may raise a people sore-deprest,
And knit its strength together for the strife
With foreign foes, or subtle statesman's art:
Sweet hymns have lifted many a dying heart
Above the world, and sped the passing life
Across the waters, to the land of rest!