Lindbergh Poem by Henry Meade Bland

He lighted his keen, sure-working brain
As an engine is fired; and, starred and arrayed,
He sped in joy to the surging main,
He took to the blind-trail unafraid;
He faced the storm; the lightning played.
He entered the dire immensity,
A hero through fortune and strong will made,
He mastered the air, he mastered the sea.

No beacon to guide him, high towered and plain,
No star peering through the abysmal shade,
He shot through the bail or the bolted rain,
Through thunder-cloud dark, where the mists are grayed;
By the sheer cold compass his course he laid,
Then rode to his high-born destiny.
By never a fear of a phantom swayed,
He mastered the air; he mastered the sea.

The bold winds screamed in a stern disdain,
The storm-horses snorted, and plunged, and neighed;
But the sea and the heavens! They raved in vain,
And the fears of the landsmen were all gainsaid;
For the hills of Britain in cavalcade,
And the streams of Frances in friendly glee,
They sing of a glory that never shall fade,
He mastered the air; he mastered the sea.

Then boom in his honor the high cannonade, And sing the loud paeon of victory;
The facts, the furies, the fiends have obeyed,
He mastered the air; he mastered the sea.