 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
38
XVI.
WEIGHING ANCHOR.
Like sweetest music are those cries that tellOf weighing anchor;—ay, we're homeward bound!
Ye orange groves and coffee walks, farewell!
Farewell, thou fire-scooped summit, forest-crowned!
Ah, bright thy shores and bountiful thy fruits,
Cuba! and heaped with green thy river-banks;
But here the noontide Pestilence recruits
(Stern minister!) Death's ever-gathering ranks.
And so, e'en while thy gales are breathing balm,
And thy rich growth our soil reluctant mocks,
O, give me back the cedar for the palm!
The cedar on its brown hills, ribbed with rocks!
'Tis Freedom's emblem; and on Freedom's shore
It stands—though rough without, all fragrance at the core!
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |