Isle of beauty, thou art teaching
Lessons long and grand, to-night,
To my heart that would be bleaching
To thy whiteness, Cliff of Wight.
Hope
'T is borne on the zephyr at eventide's hour;
It falls on the heart like the dew on the flower,—
An infinite essence from tropic to pole,
The promise, the home, and the heaven of Soul. [5]