Lyrics sylvan and sacred. By the Rev. Richard Wilton |
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TO SOME FRIENDS
ABOUT TO WINTER AT CANEA, IN CRETE. |
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TO SOME FRIENDS ABOUT TO WINTER AT CANEA, IN CRETE.
O happy, flying to the shores of Crete,From England to the hundred-citied isle,
Like the blest birds which follow Summer's smile.
What footprints of Old Time your eyes will meet
Where classic Ida lifts its head to greet
The clustered Cyclades. What thoughts beguile
Th' approach to “every city” mile by mile,
Once tracked by grand Evangelistic feet.
Nor blest alone, but blessing will ye go:
For on that far-off strand an English home
Shines amid alien flowers, warm with the glow
Of English hearts, to welcome those who roam:
And oh, what genial hours will o'er ye flow,
Gazing tow'rds Greece across the Ægean foam.
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