I <br />INTO the west of the waters on the living ocean’s foam, <br />Into the west of the sunset where the young adventurers roam, <br />Into the west of the shining star, I am sailing, sailing home; <br />Home from the lonely cities, time’s wreck, and the naked woe, <br />Home through the clean great waters where freemen’s pennants blow, <br />Home to the land men dream of, where all the nations go; <br />’T is home but to be on the waters, ’t is home already here, <br />Through the weird red-billowing sunset into the west to steer, <br />To fall asleep in the rocking dark with home a day more near. <br /> <br />II <br />By morning light the ship holds on, alive with happy freight, <br />A thousand hearts with one still joy, and with one hope elate, <br />To reach the land that mothered them and sweetly guides their fate; <br />Whether the purple furrow heaps the bows with dazzling spray, <br />Or buried in green-based masses they dip the storm-swept day, <br />Or the white fog ribbons o’er them, the strong ship holds her way; <br />And when another day is done, by the star of love we steer <br />To the land of all that we love best and all that we hold dear; <br />We are sailing westward, homeward; our western home is near.<br /><br />George Edward Woodberry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homeward-bound-9/
