Song For All Seas, All Ship by Walt Whitman

Song For All Seas, All Ships
By Walt Whitman

I

To-day a rude brief recitative,
Of ships sailing the Seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal;
Of unnamed heroes in the ships-Of waves spreading and spreading, far as the eye can reach;
Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing;
And out of these a chant, for the sailors of all nations,
Fitful, like a surge.

Of Sea-Captains young or old, and the Mates-and all intrepid Sailors;
Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise, nor death dismay,
Pick'd sparingly, without noise, by thee, old Ocean-chosen by thee,
Thou Sea, that pickest and cullest the race, in Time, unitest Nations!
Suckled by thee, old husky Nurse-embodying thee!
Indomitable, untamed as thee.

(Ever the heroes, on water or on land, by ones or twos appearing,
Ever the stock preserv'd, and never lost, though rare-enough for seed preserv'd.)

II

Flaunt out O Sea, your separate flags of nations!
Flaunt out, visible as ever, the various ship-signals!
But do you reserve especially for yourself, and for the soul of man, one flag above all the rest,
A spiritual woven Signal, for all nations, emblem of man elate above death,
Token of all brave captains, and all intrepid sailors and mates,
And all that went down doing their duty;
Reminiscent of them'twined from all intrepid captains, young or old;
A pennant universal, subtly waving, all time, o'er all brave sailors,
All seas, all ships.

Old Ironsides by Oliver Wendell Holmes

Old Ironsides
By Oliver Wendell Holmes

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
         Long has it waived on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
         That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle-shout,
         And burst the cannon's roar:
The meteor of the ocean air
         Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
         Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
         And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
        Or know the conquered knee:
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
        The eagle of the sea!

Oh, better that her shattered hulk
        Should sink beneath the wave!
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
        And there should be her grave:
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
        Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
        The lighting, and the gale!