POINT PRIM.
Far off from the smoke, and the city's glare,
To the breath of the clover lea; From the din and dust to the healthful air,
And the song of a tranquil sea. Which falls on the ear like a holy psalm
From a world unkenned of strife; As the eve glides past in a blissful calm,
Like the close of a well-spent life.
Yet sighings of sorrow are heard in the foam
Which white-wreathes thy border, Point Prim; As she telleth their fate, who left thee, to roam,
The eyes of the mother wax dim. Of him who ne'er quitted dread danger's post
Till engulfed in the treacherous wave; Or of him who fevered on sultry coast,
And was launched in the sailor's grave.
No thrilling oration shall vaunt their praise,
No flowers bloom over their breast; The surges shall wail through the long, long days,
Yet disturb not their quiet rest. No kindred shall bind them in narrow bed,
No marble earth's sympathy crave; Sea-shells will pillow the wave-shrouded head,
And winds sigh the dirge of her brave.
No more by the wood path, through falling leaves,
Will she hasten their steps to greet; But yet will she gather her golden sheaves,
When time and eternity meet. No more will they weather the tempest's strain,
With a lowering sky o'erhead;— One haven will shelter her loved again
When the sea giveth up its dead.
ORWELL BAY.
Sweet, pale-faced Queen of silent night!
Calm-seated on thy azure throne, Shed forth thy beams of silvery light
Till nether realms embrace thine own. Till gleaming spire on tree-crowned hill,
With waving corn on valley land; Till peaceful flood, and noiseless mill
Seem burnished of enchanter's wand.
And you, ye moonbeams! softly glide
Along fair Orwell's glittering wave; And gently rest where all my pride
Lies buried, in my Mary's grave. Oh Mary! lovèd of my youth!
Oh blissful dreams of early day! When love was life, and troth was truth,
And hallowed shrine was Orwell Bay.
Full oft, upon thy banks, of yore,
With hearts entwined in love divine, While murmuring wavelets kissed thy shore,
We watched the radiant day's decline. When sorrow fell, when times were hard,
Love held its faith, youth hoped the best; I bade farewell thy greening sward,
And turned me to the glowing West.