William Ellery Channing

Most joyful let the Poet be; It is through him that all men see.

My highway is unfeatured air, My consorts are the sleepless stars, And men my giant arms upbear — My arms unstained and free from scars.

I sing New England, as she lights her fire In every Prairie's midst; and where the bright Enchanting stars shine pure through Southern night, She still is there, the guardian on the tower, To open for the world a purer hour.

A wail in the wind is all I hear; A voice of woe for a lover's loss.

I laugh, for hope hath happy place with me; If my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea.