Page:Blanchard on L. E. L.pdf/162

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Bearing upon its wings the hues of morning, Up springs the flying fish like life's false joy, Which of the sunshine asks that frail adorning Whose very light is fated to destroy. Ah, so doth genius on its rainbow pinion Spring from the depths of an unkindly world; So spring sweet fancies from the heart's dominion— Too soon in death the scorched-up wing is furl'd. My friends, my absent friends! Whate'er I see is linked with thoughts of you.

No life is in the air, but in the waters Are creatures, huge, and terrible and strong; The sword-fish and the shark pursue their slaughters, War universal reigns these depths along. Like some new island on the ocean springing, Floats on the surface some gigantic whale, From its vast head a silver fountain flinging, Bright as the fountain in a fairy tale. My friends, my absent friends! I read such fairy legends while with you.

Light is amid the gloomy canvass spreading, The moon is whitening the dusky sails, From the thick bank of clouds she masters, shedding The softest influence that o'er night prevails. Pale is she like a young queen pale with splendour, Haunted with passionate thoughts too fond, too deep; The very glory that she wears is tender, The very eyes that watch her beauty fain would weep. My friends, my absent friends! Do you think of me, as I think of you?

Sunshine is ever cheerful, when the morning Wakens the world with cloud-dispelling eyes; The spirits mount to glad endeavour, scorning What toil upon a path so sunny lies. Sunshine and hope are comrades, and their weather Calls into life an energy like spring's; But memory and moonlight go together, Reflected in the light that either brings. My friends, my absent friends! Do you think of me, then? I think of you.

The busy deck is hush'd, no sounds are waking But the watch pacing silently and slow; The waves against the sides incessant breaking, And rope and canvass swaying to and fro.