Page:Stevenson - Songs of Travel (1896).djvu/59

Rh Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,

And hailed my promised land with cries.

Yes, Lady, here I was at last;

Here found I all I had forecast:

The long roll of the sapphire sea

That keeps the land's virginity;

The stalwart giants of the wood

Laden with toys and flowers and food;

The precious forest pouring out

To compass the whole town about;

The town itself with streets of lawn,

Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn,

Where the brown children all the day

Keep up a ceaseless noise of play,

Play in the sun, play in the rain,

Nor ever quarrel or complain;—

And late at night, in the woods of fruit.

Hark! do you hear the passing flute?

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