Page:Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson, Hitherto unpublished, 1921.djvu/15

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Life's winds and billows, hoarse and shrill,
Could ne'er his minstrel-ardor still;
He sailed and piped until his breath
Went out within the grip of death;
And now, upon his island home,
Fringed with the far Pacific foam,
He lies at peace, beloved, renowned
The sympathetic world around.