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Coral Isles and Tropic Seas

The dotted cays,

With their little trees,

Lie all about on the crystal floor;

Nothing but beauty—

Far off is duty,

Far off the folk of the busy shore.

The mangroves stride

In the coloured tide,

With leafy crests that will soon be isles;

And all is lonely—

White sea and only,

Angel-pure for untrodden miles.

In sunny bays

The young shark plays,

Among the ripples and nets of light;

And the conch-shell crawls

Through the glimmering halls

The coral builds for the Infinite.

And every gem

In His diadem,

From flaming topaz to moon-hushed pearl,

Glitters and glances

In swaying dances

Of waters adream like the eyes of a girl.

The sea and the stars,

And the ghostly bars

Of the shoals all bright 'neath the feet of the moon;

The night that glistens,

And stops and listens

To the half-heard beat of a timeless tune.

Here Solitude

To itself doth brood,

At the furthest verge of the reef-spilt foam;

And the world's lone ends

Are met as friends,

And the homeless heart is at last at home.