Ran away to Sea.
A treacherous spirit came up from the sea,
And passing inland found a boy where he
Lay underneath the green roof of a tree,
In the golden summer weather.
And to the boy it whispered soft and low—
Come! let us leave this weary land, and go
Over the seas where the free breezes blow,
In the golden summer weather.
I know green isles in far-off sunny seas,
Where grow great cocoa-palms and orange-trees,
And spicy odors perfume every breeze,
In the golden summer weather.
There, underneath the ever-glowing skies,
Gay parrokeets and birds of paradise,
Make bright the woods with plumes of gorgeous dyes,
In the golden summer weather.
And in that land a happy people stay:
No hateful books perplex them night nor day;
No cares of business fret their lives away,
In the golden summer weather.
But all day long they wander where they please,
Plucking delicious fruits, that on the trees
Hang all the year and never know decrease,
In the golden summer weather.
Or over flower-enamelled vale and slope
They chase the silv'ry-footed antelope;
Or with the pard in manly conflict cope
In the golden summer weather.
And in those islands troops of maidens are,
Whose lovely shapes no foolish fashions mar;
Eyes black as Night, and brighter than her stars
In the golden summer weather.
Earth hath no maidens like them otherwhere;
With teeth like pearls and wreaths of jetty hair,
And lips more sweet than tinted syrups are,
In the golden summer weather.
Ah! what a life it were to live with them!
'Twould pass by sweetly as a happy dream:
The years like days, the days like minutes seem,
In the golden summer weather.
Come! let us go! the wind blows fair and free;
The clouds sail seaward, and to-morrow we
May see the billows dancing on the sea,
In the golden summer weather.
The heavens were bright, the earth was fair to see,
A thousand birds sang round the boy, but he
Heard nothing but that spirit from the sea,
In the golden summer weather.
All night, as sleepless on his bed he lay,
He seemed to hear that treacherous spirit say,
Come, let us seek those islands far away,
In the golden summer weather.
So ere the morning in the east grew red,
He stole adown the stairs with barefoot tread,
Unbarred the door with trembling hands, and fled
In the golden summer weather.
In the last hour of night the city slept;
Upon his beat the drowsy watchman stept;
When like a thief along the streets he crept,
In the golden summer weather.
And when the sun brought in the busy day,
His father's home afar behind him lay,
And he stood 'mongst the sailors on the quay,
In the golden summer weather.
Like sleeping swans, with white wings folded, ride
The great ships at their moorings, side by side;
Moving but with the pulses of the tide,
In the golden summer weather.
And one is slowly ruffling out her wings
For flight, as seaward round her bowsprit swings;
Whilst at the capstan-bars the sailor sings
In the golden summer weather.
He is aboard. The wind blows fresh abeam:
The ship drifts slowly seaward with the stream;
And soon the land fades from him like a dream,
In the golden summer weather.
And if he found those islands far away,
Or those fair maidens, there is none can say:
For ship or boy returned not since that day,
In the golden summer weather.
E. YOUNG.