Captain be he, my England, who doth know <br />Not careful coasts, with inland welcomes warm; <br />But who, with heart infallible, can go <br />Straight to the gulf-streams of the World, where blow <br />The inevitable Winds. Let cockles swarm <br />The sounded shores. He helms Thee, England! who, <br />Faced by the very Spirit of the Storm, <br />Full at the phantom drives his dauntless prow! <br />And tho' the Vision rend in racks of blood, <br />And drip in thunder from his reeling spars, <br />The compass in his hand, beholds the flood <br />Beneath, o'er-head the everlasting stars <br />Dim thro' the gory ghost; and calm in these, <br />Thro' that tremendous dream sails on to happier seas.<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-statesman/
