Envoy.
O lady mine, wilt thou not stray
O'er the grassy aisles of the orchard way,
And list to Love where the wind-flowers shine,
O lady mine?
Clinton Scollard.
WHERE ARE THE SHIPS OF TYRE?
Hark, how the surges dash
On Tyrian beaches hoar!
With far-resounding crash,
And unremitting roar,
The white foam squadrons pour
Their ranks with sullen ire
Along the sandy floor;
"Where are the ships of Tyre?"
Within her walls the clash
Of arms is heard no more;
No supple bough of ash
Is hewn for mast or oar;
Through no tall temple's door
Now gleams the altar fire,
But winds and waves deplore,
"Where are the ships of Tyre?"
By night no torches flash
From porches as of yore;
'Neath sword or stinging lash
No slave now lies in gore;
No voice that men adore
Lifts song to lute or lyre;
With all the freight they bore,
"Where are the ships of Tyre?"
Envoy.
Prince, with these "gone before,"
We, whom these days inspire,
Must seek that unknown shore
"Where are the ships of Tyre?"