Lit2Go

I ripple the fronds of the cocoanut palms,
  As I join with the voice of the sea
The somnolent swell of the mystical psalms
  That I breathe from the quivering tree.
I hush to the cries of the wandering crane
  Out over the shimmering lee;
The murmuring moan of the faraway main,
  And the hum of the hovering bee:—
Then I leap to the crest of the towering pine
  And I sing of the life that I see…

I sing of the sweep of the fathomless deep
  And the leagues of the wallowing trail;
I echo the roar of the wave-battled steep
  Over-hung by the vaporous veil;
I murmur the moan of the low-toned dirge,
  And the plaint of the ocean gull’s wail.
I feather the crest of the breaker-torn surge
  As again on the top of the gale
I shriek through the mist, by the dashing spray kissed,
  As I hasten the floundering sail.

I sing of the spot far-away in the East
  Where the Sun rises out of the sea;
Where the flying-fish plunge for their scattering feast
  Midst the porpoises leaping in glee;—
Where the sea-weeded isles in the radiant light.
  Are alive with the Life of the Sea.
As the cormorant coveys arise in shrill flight
  And go skimming along beside me,
I sing the wild song of the ocean-bred fowl
  In the full throbbing voice of the free.

I sing of far isles in the crystalline blue
  Where the air ever whispers of May;
Where the seas ever glow with a phosphorent hue
  Round the ships that are waiting alway;
Where the skies are ablaze with a slumberous haze
  And the clouds,—like the barques of a Fay—
Are hanging becalmed in the odorous maze
  As the sails on an enchanted bay.
And the land is sunk deep in a languishing sleep,
  And in dreams of an Age Far-Away.

I sing of the depth of the sulphur-blue sky,
  And the Realms of its furtherest lease.
I whisper the tale of the visions that lie
  Far beyond where my earth-travels cease:—
The mystical place of the outermost space
  Where the travel-aged winds are at ease:
And so Faintly there comes with an infinite grace
  Through the floods of Eternity’s peace
The dreamy refrain of the measureless worlds,
  Like an echo of age-buried seas.

I sing of the quest of the tropical moon—
  As it floats like a vessel of gold
Through the silvery floods of a fairy lagoon
  On the journey that never is old…
And I faint ‘neath the spell that is left in its way
  —As a dream of the loves yet untold,—
An amorous incense that issues alway
  From the wealth of its magical hold,—
And I murmur the tune,—through the languorous swoon,
  —Of the romance I fain would unfold.

I dream of the home of Fairies and Fays
  On the isles of the calm southern sky,
Of the fanciful turrets and towers ablaze
  In the flood of the rays from on high;
Of the motionless miles of the wonder-lined aisles
  Where the curlew and pelican fly
To the flame-gowned peaks of the aerial piles
  That arise in the magical sky;
And I catch the faint notes of a music that floats
  From the isles,—like a joy-laden sigh.

I breath the perfume of the salt-spraying spume;
  The odor of orange-blown bowers;
I gather the wealth of acacia bloom
  O’er the ruins of age-crumbled towers
Where on high the saccharine breath of the palms
  Exhales from the lotus-like flowers…
As I drowse in the subtle and amorous calm
  So sweetly enticing my powers,
I am lulled to a deep and oblivious sleep
  Through the fragrance of odorous hours.

And often my song is a-tune with the joy
  That is sung by the soft summer sea;—
The swift-tripping notes the fairies employ
  As they dance round the rainbow with me;—
The care-distant chords of the light-hearted hordes
  That people the isles of the sea,
And my heart bubbles o’er with their volatile lore
  That I chatter in merriest glee.
So often my song is a-tune with their joy
  Those throbs from the throats of the Free.

But sometimes all breathing of gladness are fled
  And my voicings are full of the woe
That burdens the sea for souls that are dead;
  Of the tragedies hidden below:—
For I blend in my tone, the ocean’s low moan,
  All the comfortless dirge of its flow;
Of soul-shrivings lone on hurricanes blown
  E’en the sob of the tidal-trapped doe;—
And I breathe forth my sigh to the sorrowing sky
  From the fullness of grief that I know.

I ripple the fronds of the cocoanut palms
  As I join with the voice of the sea
The somnolent swell of the mystical psalms
  That breath from the quivering trees…
I hush to the cries of the wandering crane
  Out over the shimmering lee;
The murmuring moan of the far-away Main;
  And the hum of the hovering bee:...
Then I leap to the crest of the towering pine
  And I sing of the Life that I see.