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John Marr and Other Poems

Chapter 81: GOLD
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About This Book

The collection presents a range of lyric poems and longer pieces that move between maritime imagery, elegiac reflection, and stark battle verse. Many poems evoke oceanic scenes and shipboard fellowship while others confront the violence, aftermath, and moral uncertainty of armed conflict. Interwoven are philosophical meditations and classical or literary allusions that shift tone from colloquial anecdote to austere contemplation. Selections include short lyrics, narrative fragments, extracts from larger verse cycles, and a prose supplement that clarifies the war material. A persistent, individual voice binds the pieces, balancing rough seafaring idiom with earnest poetic inquiry.

GOLD

         We rovers bold,
    To the land of Gold,
Over the bowling billows are gliding:
    Eager to toil,
    For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding.
    See! See!
Before our prows’ resistless dashes
The gold-fish fly in golden flashes!
    ’Neath a sun of gold,
    We rovers bold,
On the golden land are gaining;
    And every night,
    We steer aright,
By golden stars unwaning!
All fires burn a golden glare:
No locks so bright as golden hair!
    All orange groves have golden gushings;
    All mornings dawn with golden flushings!
In a shower of gold, say fables old,
A maiden was won by the god of gold!
    In golden goblets wine is beaming:
    On golden couches kings are dreaming!
    The Golden Rule dries many tears!
    The Golden Number rules the spheres!
Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations:
Gold! gold! the center of all rotations!
    On golden axles worlds are turning:
    With phosphorescence seas are burning!
    All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings!
    Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings!
    With golden arrows kings are slain:
    With gold we’ll buy a freeman’s name!
In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,
At home we’ve slaved, with stifled yearnings:
No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!
When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow.
        But joyful now, with eager eye,
        Fast to the Promised Land we fly:
            Where in deep mines,
            The treasure shines;
        Or down in beds of golden streams,
        The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams!
            How we long to sift,
            That yellow drift!
        Rivers! Rivers! cease your goings!
            Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide!
            ’Till we’ve gained the golden flowing;
            And in the golden haven ride!