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The Steamboat

By Oliver Wendell Holmes

Topics: classic

See how yon flaming herald treads     The ridged and rolling waves,     As, crashing o'er their crested heads,     She bows her surly slaves!     With foam before and fire behind,     She rends the clinging sea,     That flies before the roaring wind,     Beneath her hissing lee.     The morning spray, like sea-born flowers,     With heaped and glistening bells,     Falls round her fast, in ringing showers,     With every wave that swells;     And, burning o'er the midnight deep,     In lurid fringes thrown,     The living gems of ocean sweep     Along her flashing zone.     With clashing wheel and lifting keel,     And smoking torch on high,     When winds are loud and billows reel,     She thunders foaming by;     When seas are silent and serene,     With even beam she glides,     The sunshine glimmering through the green     That skirts her gleaming sides.     Now, like a wild, nymph, far apart     She veils her shadowy form,     The beating of her restless heart     Still sounding through the storm;     Now answers, like a courtly dame,     The reddening surges o'er,     With flying scarf of spangled flame,     The Pharos of the shore.     To-night yon pilot shall not sleep,     Who trims his narrowed sail;     To-night yon frigate scarce shall keep     Her broad breast to the gale;     And many a foresail, scooped and strained,     Shall break from yard and stay,     Before this smoky wreath has stained     The rising mist of day.     Hark! hark! I hear yon whistling shroud,     I see yon quivering mast;     The black throat of the hunted cloud     Is panting forth the blast!     An hour, and, whirled like winnowing chaff,     The giant surge shall fling     His tresses o'er yon pennon staff,     White as the sea-bird's wing.     Yet rest, ye wanderers of the deep;     Nor wind nor wave shall tire     Those fleshless arms, whose pulses leap     With floods of living fire;     Sleep on, and, when the morning light     Streams o'er the shining bay,     Oh think of those for whom the night     Shall never wake in day.

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"See how yon flaming herald treads..."

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Author:Oliver Wendell Holmes

"See how yon flaming herald treads..." by Oliver Wendell Holmes

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Oliver Wendell Holmes

About Oliver Wendell Holmes

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. (1809–1894) was an American poet, physician, and essayist. His poems "Old Ironsides" and "The Chambered Nautilus" are American classics. He was part of the Fireside Poets group.

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