But he that found the sea-flower by the sea And took to foster like a graft of earth Was born of man's most highest and heavenliest birth, Free-born as winds and stars and waves are free; A warrior grey with glories more than years, Though more of years than change the quick to dead Had rained their light and darkness on his head; A singer that in time's and memory's ears Should leave such words to sing as all his peers Might praise with hallowing heat of rapturous tears Till all the days of human flight were fled. And at his knees his fosterling was fed Not with man's wine and bread Nor mortal mother-milk of hopes and fears, But food of deep memorial days long sped; For bread with wisdom and with song for wine Clear as the full calm's emerald hyaline. And from his grave glad lips the boy would gather Fine honey of song-notes goldener than gold, More sweet than bees make of the breathing heather, That he, as glad and bold, Might drink as they, and keep his spirit from cold. And the boy loved his laurel-laden hair As his own father's risen on the eastern air, And that less white brow-binding bayleaf bloom More than all flowers his father's eyes relume; And those high songs he heard, More than all notes of any landward bird, More than all sounds less free Than the wind's quiring to the choral sea.
High things the high song taught him; how the breath Too frail for life may be more strong than death; And this poor flash of sense in life, that gleams As a ghost's glory in dreams, More stabile than the world's own heart's root seems, By that strong faith of lordliest love which gives To death's own sightless-seeming eyes a light Clearer, to death's bare bones a verier might, Than shines or strikes from any man that lives. How he that loves life overmuch shall die The dog's death, utterly: And he that much less loves it than he hates All wrongdoing that is done Anywhere always underneath the sun Shall live a mightier life than time's or fate's. One fairer thing he shewed him, and in might More strong than day and night Whose strengths build up time's towering period: Yea, one thing stronger and more high than God, Which if man had not, then should God not be: And that was Liberty. And gladly should man die to gain, he said, Freedom; and gladlier, having lost, lie dead. For man's earth was not, nor the sweet sea-waves His, nor his own land, nor its very graves, Except they bred not, bore not, hid not slaves: But all of all that is, Were one man free in body and soul, were his.