(Southampton Docks: October, 1899) While The Far Farewell Music Thins And Fails, And The Broad Bottoms Rip The Bearing Brine - All Smalling Slowly To The Gray Sea Line - And Each Significant Red Smoke-Shaft Pales, Keen Sense Of Severance Everywhere Prevails, Which Shapes The Late Long Tramp Of Mounting Men To Seeming Words That Ask And Ask Again: "How Long, O Striving Teutons, Slavs, And Gaels Must Your Wroth Reasonings Trade On Lives Like These, That Are As Puppets In A Playing Hand? - When Shall The Saner Softer Polities Whereof We Dream, Have Play In Each Proud Land, And Patriotism, Grown Godlike, Scorn To Stand Bondslave To Realms, But Circle Earth And Seas?"