 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
192
IN A FAR COUNTRY
Once, in a dream, in a bleak, sea-blown land,
A man wreck-stranded many a month before
Saw for a moment—not the broken oar,
Nor sand-sunk keel; nor wild men that would stand
With uncouth gibberish on either hand
If he walked forth, or peered about the door
Where stretched he lay on his rude hut's beach-floor;
Nor heard the dull waves fretting at the sand:
A man wreck-stranded many a month before
Saw for a moment—not the broken oar,
Nor sand-sunk keel; nor wild men that would stand
With uncouth gibberish on either hand
If he walked forth, or peered about the door
Where stretched he lay on his rude hut's beach-floor;
Nor heard the dull waves fretting at the sand:
But heard once more, this blessed dream within,
The mother-tongue heard not these many years,
And old familiar motions had their power;
Saw, for once more, the faces of his kin,
And took their hands, half-laughing, half in tears,
And it was home, home, home, for this one hour.
The mother-tongue heard not these many years,
And old familiar motions had their power;
Saw, for once more, the faces of his kin,
And took their hands, half-laughing, half in tears,
And it was home, home, home, for this one hour.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |