Saint Iago, send the fair
Wind of the Southern Sea;
Come to us gently, Air,
Soft to the lee.

Not the harsh hurricane
Hurled at the mast
Driving to the Bay Biscayne
Before the blast.

These are the summer seas,
Free from all harm;
West blows the pleasant breeze,
Moistly and warm!

So shall we safely glide
Into our goal,
Borne on the even tide,
Behind the mole!

~Don C. Seitz