The voyage will be done, the island reached at last.
...
Will it be thus when the strange sleep of Death
Lifts from the brow, and lost eyes live again?
Will morning dawn on the bewildered brain,
To cool and heal? And shall I feel the breath
Of freshening winds that travel from the sea,
And meet thy loving, laughing eyes, Earine?
...
O virgin world! O marvellous far days!