 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
538
Land
They near the coast; the land-birds hover round,Far out upon the ocean sent before;
With flowers and leaves the rippling waves abound,
Washed by the tide from off their native shore;
The air with fragrant odors too is filled,
Borne o'er the sea, from unseen, flowery fields,
Forerunning signals to the seaman skilled,
To whom each trifling thing some knowledge yields.
No Lights on island, cape, or rock they see,
By which to steer their courses through the night,
They shorten sail, lest danger there may be,
And anxious wait for morning's cheerful light;
Day dawns at length, the land! the land! they cry,
And the New World is seen by every eye.
Poem No. 646; c. 1878–80
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