They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
      Until at last the blanch’d mate said;
   “Why, now, not even God would know
      Should I and all my men fall dead. 
    These very winds forget their way,
      For God from these dread seas is gone. 
    Now speak, brave Admiral, and say——­”
      He said:  “Sail on! and on!”

    They sailed, they sailed, then spoke his mate: 
     “This mad sea shows his teeth to-night,
    He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
      With lifted teeth as if to bite! 
    Brave Admiral, say but one word;
      What shall we do when hope is gone?”
    The words leaped as a leaping sword: 
     “Sail on! sail on! and on!”

    Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,
      And thro’ the darkness peered that night. 
    Ah, darkest night! and then a speck,—­
      A light! a light! a light! a light! 
    It grew—­a star-lit flag unfurled! 
      It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn;
    He gained a world! he gave that world
      Its watch-word:  “On! and on!”

JOAQUIN MILLER.

 THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS.

Once a year the children learn “The Shepherd of King Admetus,” which is one of the finest poems ever written as showing the possible growth of real history into mythology, the tendency of mankind to deify what is fine or sublime in human action.  Not every child will learn this entire poem, because it is too long.  But every child will learn the best lines in it while the children are teaching it to me and when I take my turn in teaching it to them.  No child fails to catch the spirit and intent of the poem and to become entirely familiar with it. (1819-91.)

    There came a youth upon the earth,
      Some thousand years ago,
    Whose slender hands were nothing worth,
      Whether to plow, or reap, or sow.

    Upon an empty tortoise-shell
      He stretched some chords, and drew
    Music that made men’s bosoms swell
      Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew.

    Then King Admetus, one who had
      Pure taste by right divine,
    Decreed his singing not too bad
      To hear between the cups of wine: 

    And so, well pleased with being soothed
      Into a sweet half-sleep,
    Three times his kingly beard he smoothed,
      And made him viceroy o’er his sheep.

    His words were simple words enough,
      And yet he used them so,
    That what in other mouths was rough
      In his seemed musical and low.

    Men called him but a shiftless youth,
      In whom no good they saw;
    And yet, unwittingly, in truth,
      They made his careless words their law.

    They knew not how he learned at all,
      For idly, hour by hour,
    He sat and watched the dead leaves fall,
      Or mused upon a common flower.