26
Converging to where into depths of seas
The old wood’s selvage peers from cliffs of coral.
V.
The rolling main, where yestreen’s storm suspended
Its vapoury hills o’er myriad valleys blended
Where surge and thunder-peal rang forth and vivid
Heaven’s cloud-born arrows leapt from darkness livid,
To-day, in tranquil majesty reposing
Beneath the gorgeous dome of southern skies,
A mighty sapphire half of space enclosing,
Flecked with the gold of myriad sparkles, lies.
Blue robe of Ocean, which the wavelets plashing,
Scarce heard, in crispy bands of snowy laces
’Neath the low shore-line fringe and, gorgeous, graces
A diadem of palms, with emerald flashing;
Such the proud vanguard of that wood’s recesses,
With sprays superb of towering growths, in motion,
And garlands drooping to a painted ocean
And flower bright wreaths entwined in darkling tresses:
And from the waves’ transparent shield, far under
Glows, strangely fair, the sub-marine wrought Aden,
Girdling the shore with wealth of flower forms laden,
The tender polypes’ patient work of wonder,
Those stems in ruby carved and turquoise blue,
Whose threads enamelled many a whorl embowers
Of slender-fashioned bells and living flowers
In hundred-fold delight of varying hues:—
Those globed Medusa’s colours, the slim mould
Of other beings, that glassy microcosms’
Still insect life, that circles round its blossoms
