The Days of a Man 1897 



Like a swift-spun skein of silver springs intact 



The cataract, 

 From the riven lava buttress far into the Icy Sea; 



Joyfully 

 Does it join the tumbling billows, while its spray 



Drifts away 

 With the east wind to the leeward. Banished now is every fear, 



All is clear; 



For we know the Cape called Cheerful, and it tells the haven 

 near. 



Like the fog-bound northern ocean is the weary course of life: 



Doubt and strife 

 Hide the way I fain would follow; can I know 



What to do? 

 Slowly down my path I wander, sore perplexed, 



Spirit-vexed, 

 By the cloud-rack of conventions o'er us all 



Like a pall. 



Thus, with downcast eyes and somber, come I to the garden- 

 gate; 



Swift and straight, 

 Leaping from a bank of roses, like a fetterless cascade, 



Unafraid, 



Rush the children forth to greet me, with a joyous shout of cheer; 

 Banished now is all convention, all vexation and contention, 



All is clear; 



I have found the "Cape called Cheerful," and I know the haven 

 near. 



At Unalaska they transferred us to the Pheasant, 



another small British warship, on which we returned 



Sending to St. Paul. Arriving there and rinding no letters 



f rthe either from home or from the State Department, I 



sent the Rush back to Sitka, a distance of some 1200 



miles, for the mail. 



Captain Cyrus L. Hooper, a brave and loyal 

 officer, then commanded the Bering Sea Patrol com- 



C 596 3 



