Poetry Archives

How in all wonder Columbus got over,
   That is a marvel to me, I protest,
Cabot, and Raleigh too, that well-read rover,
   Frobisher, Dampier, Drake and the rest.
    Bad enough all the same,
    For them that after came,
    But, in great Heaven’s name,
    How he should ever think
    That on the other brink
Of this huge waste terra firma should be,
Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me.

How a man ever should hope to get thither,
   E’e'n if he knew of there being another side;
But to suppose he should come any whither,
   Sailing right on into chaos untried,
    Across the whole ocean,
    In spite of the motion,
    To stick to the notion
    That in some nook or bend
    Of a sea without end
He should find North and South Amerikee,
Was a pure madness as it seems to me.

What if wise men had, as far back as Ptolemy,
   Judged that the earth like an orange was round,
None of them ever said, ‘Come along, follow,
   Sail to the West, and the East will be found.’
    Many a day before
    Ever they’d touched the shore
    Of the San Salvador,
    Sadder and wiser men
    They’d have turned back again;
And that he did not, but did cross the sea,
Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me.
And that he crossed and that we cross the sea
Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me.