Olympia Xi

Old Time, Old Shifting Trade-Time there is for the luffing sheets,
for the shipmates ciying out for a blast to drive them home;
and Time there is for the flash flood, Rain,
Son-at-Arms from the thunderbreast of Sky.
But once let a man catch fire,
wring some triumph out of the grit of combat:
then my underrun of music,
a founding-stone for annals building against the years,
will mount at the last, an unaging pledge to the works of Greatness;

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