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
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!
Herman Melville
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