Seite:Marsh Wolfe of the knoll.djvu/13

17

AMROOM.

Of England's slain poet, forever beams —
Where mermaids hollow their sparkling caves
In the crystal rocks that the cool tide laves,
And blow sweet airs through their pearly shells
Till wide o'er the island the harmony swells ?
Ah ! our brother man — so fallen, so low !
With an aching heart we should turn and go !
Then choose for our dreaming this desert sod,
With a truth-loving folk, that feareth God !

Through fiery haze descends the sun.
And throws across the waters dun
A slender band of ruddy stain
So bright it seems the golden chain,
That binds earth to his glorious sphere,
Is visibly extended here,
And that the dancing waves may break
The flashing links they rudely shake.
Tranquilly doth our islet sleep,
This eventide, upon the deep.