A late gold sun, traced curiously with cloud;
The spacious splendors of the moon-filled night;
Among the wild-rose crowds, the perfect one;
White sea-gulls like white lilies, on brown bars
That slant athwart blue bays; gulls in the sun
Rising as galaxies of trembling stars:
Lull me awhile, O Beauty, drug my dread!
—To-morrow morn War stands beside my bed.
HAPPY COUNTRY
Here by the bright blue creek the good ships lie