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And a weak infant wept. And there He left us.”

“Our sire,” said Hermes, “—he too sleeps away

Our centuries. We have the selfsame fortune.

Sail westward with us then.” And Gabriel nodded.

The steel that sliced the water swung at length,

And in three days they nosed between the Pillars;

Past which—and the ten all shuddered—monsters once

Made chaos of the world’s end. But no fangs

Closed over the black prow, and mile on mile

Slid under them, familiar as a meadow

To the small men they watched amid the smoke.

Mile on mile, by hundreds and by thousands,

The Atlantic sloped away. Then lands and harbors,

And a deep whistle groaning.

“Now!” said Hermes,

“Now!” So nine to one they lifted wing,

Or no-wing like their leader, and went on,

High over chimneys and chill rivers, north

By west till it was there—the rounded valley,

Green with new spring, where cattle bawled in barns

And people, patient, waited for hot June.

II

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Daniel was mending fence, for it was May,

And early rains had painted the drear pastures.


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