The Comrades Poems Old & New: By William Canton |
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The Foreigner
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 | The Comrades |  |
166
The Foreigner
Among the ballast hills he creeps,
Frail, aged, and alone.
Exile feels lighter on these heaps
Of foreign earth and stone.
Frail, aged, and alone.
Exile feels lighter on these heaps
Of foreign earth and stone.
The blue sea freshens; ships go by,
Each sail with glamour dressed;
He looks, and marks the flags they fly,
Then turns him to his quest.
Each sail with glamour dressed;
He looks, and marks the flags they fly,
Then turns him to his quest.
What seeks he here, from hour to hour,
Along this littered strand?
What but some common Spanish flower,
Scarce prized in his own land!
Along this littered strand?
What but some common Spanish flower,
Scarce prized in his own land!
167
He finds a many on the hills,
Poor soul, in sun and rain;
And so his window pots he fills
With tiny fields of Spain.
Poor soul, in sun and rain;
And so his window pots he fills
With tiny fields of Spain.
| The Comrades | |