Read

my little fable:

He that runs may read.

Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed.

REQUIESCAT

FAIR is her cottage in its place,

Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides. It sees itself from thatch to base

Dream in the sliding tides.

And fairer she, but ah how soon to die!
Her quiet dream of life this hour

Her peaceful being slowly passes by
To some more perfect peace.

may cease.

THE SAILOR BOY

He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
Shot o'er the seething harbour-bar,
And reach'd the ship and caught the rope,
And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud
He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
'O boy, tho' thou art young and proud,
I see the place where thou wilt lie.

'The sands and yeasty surges mix In caves about the dreary bay, And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,

And in thy heart the scrawl shall play.'

Fool,' he answer'd, 'death is sure

To those that stay and those that roam, But I will nevermore endure

To sit with empty hands at home.

'My mother clings about my neck,
My sisters crying, "Stay for shame ";
My father raves of death and wreck,

They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

'God help me! save I take my part

Of danger on the roaring sea,

A devil rises in my heart,

Far worse than any death to me.'

THE ISLET

'WHITHER, O whither, love, shall we go,
For a score of sweet little summers or so?
The sweet little wife of the singer said,
On the day that follow'd the day she was wed,
'Whither, O whither, love, shall we go?'
And the singer shaking his curly head
Turn'd as he sat, and struck the keys
There at his right with a sudden crash,
Singing, And shall it be over the seas
With a crew that is neither rude nor rash,
But a bevy of Eroses apple-cheek'd,
In a shallop of crystal ivory-beak'd,
With a satin sail of a ruby glow,

To a sweet little Eden on earth that I know,
A mountain islet pointed and peak'd;

Waves on a diamond shingle dash,
Cataract brooks to the ocean run,
Fairily-delicate palaces shine

Mixt with myrtle and clad with vine,
And overstream'd and silvery-streak'd
With many a rivulet high against the Sun
The facets of the glorious mountain flash
Above the valleys of palm and pine.'