A VOYAGE TO THE FORTUNATE ISLES.
9
And learned, most bitterly, how dear
Their crags and valleys were.
Their crags and valleys were.
Their home, whose dim wet windows stared
Through drops of brine, like eyes through tears;
The blue ground-blossoms that had cared
To creep about their feet for years;
And their one grave so deep, so small—
Sinking, they saw them all!
Through drops of brine, like eyes through tears;
The blue ground-blossoms that had cared
To creep about their feet for years;
And their one grave so deep, so small—
Sinking, they saw them all!
To leave the Fortunate Isles, away
On the other side of the world, and sail
Still further from them, day by day,
Dreaming to find them; and to fail
In knowing, till the very last,
They held one's own sweet Past:
On the other side of the world, and sail
Still further from them, day by day,
Dreaming to find them; and to fail
In knowing, till the very last,
They held one's own sweet Past:
Such lot was theirs. Such lot will be,
Ah, much I fear me, yours and mine.
Because our air is cold, and we
See Summer in some mirage shine,
We leave the Fortunate Isles behind,
The Fortunate Isles to find.
Ah, much I fear me, yours and mine.
Because our air is cold, and we
See Summer in some mirage shine,
We leave the Fortunate Isles behind,
The Fortunate Isles to find.
