* * * * *
Why should such thought of home
Drag at my heart to-day?
Why should I longer roam?
Why should I not go home?
Five years of toilsome wanderings
May claim a rest!
* * * * *
Nay! God knows best!
When He sees well
He'll take me home and give me well-earned rest.
The work is not yet done.
This land of Night
Is not yet fully opened to the Son
And His fair Light.
But—when the work is done—
Ah—then!—how gladly will I go—
Home!—Home—Home!—
To rest!"
KAPIOLANI
Where the great green combers break in thunder on the barrier reefs,—
Where, unceasing, sounds the mighty diapason of the deep,—
Ringed in bursts of wild wave-laughter, ringed in leagues of flying
foam,—
Long lagoons of softest azure, curving beaches white as snow,
Lap in sweetness and in beauty all the isles of Owhyhee.
Land more lovely sun ne'er shone on than these isles of Owhyhee,
Spendthrift Nature's wild profusion fashioned them like fairy bowers;
Yet behind—below the sweetness,—underneath the passion-flowers,
Lurked grim deeds, and things of horror, grisly Deaths, and ceaseless
Fears,
Fears and Deaths that walked in Darkness, grisly Deaths and ceaseless
Fears.
NOTE.—Kapiolani—pronounced Kah-pee-o-lah-ny, with slight accent on second syllable.
Mauna Loa—Mona Lo-ah.
Kilauea—Kil-o-ee-ah.