South-Sea Idyls

The Project Gutenberg eBook, South-Sea Idyls, by Charles Warren Stoddard
CHARLES WARREN STODDARD.
BOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, BY CHARLES WARREN STODDARD, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., Cambridge.
TO MY DEAR FRIEND ANTON ROMAN.
THE COCOA-TREE.
Cast on the water by a careless hand, Day after day the winds persuaded me: Onward I drifted till a coral tree Stayed me among its branches, where the sand Gathered about me, and I slowly grew, Fed by the constant sun and the inconstant dew.
The sea-birds build their nests against my root, And eye my slender body's horny case. Widowed within this solitary place Into the thankless sea I cast my fruit; Joyless I thrive, for no man may partake Of all the store I bear and harvest for his sake.
No more I heed the kisses of the morn; The harsh winds rob me of the life they gave; I watch my tattered shadow in the wave, And hourly droop and nod my crest forlorn, While all my fibres stiffen and grow numb Beck'ning the tardy ships, the ships that never come!
FORTY days in the great desert of the sea,—forty nights camped under cloud-canopies, with the salt dust of the waves drifting over us. Sometimes a Bedouin sail flashed for an hour upon the distant horizon, and then faded, and we were alone again; sometimes the west, at sunset, looked like a city with towers, and we bore down upon its glorified walls, seeking a haven; but a cold gray morning dispelled the illusion, and our hearts sank back into the illimitable sea, breathing a long prayer for deliverance.
Once a green oasis blossomed before us,—a garden in perfect bloom, girded about with creaming waves; within its coral cincture pendulous boughs trailed in the glassy waters; from its hidden bowers spiced airs stole down upon us; above all, the triumphant palm-trees clashed their melodious branches like a chorus with cymbals; yet from the very gates of this paradise a changeful current swept us onward, and the happy isle was buried in night and distance.