CRUCE AND CORONA.
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That they who to their gods will not returnShall have their homes all leveled with the dust,And they be branded with the name of slaves.
And those who uttered first the words that drewThese idol-worshipers to leave those shrines,Shall hear the prison-bars behind them close,Shall find the prison-walls to be their home.Crucè with others now doth meet this fate.
The glory of the morn on sea and shoreIn dawning splendor gleams. Upon the strandA throng of human beings wait, the whileA ship is from its moorings loosed. ApartFrom all the rest who wait, a trio stand,And, gazing on the mighty rolling waves,Behold this image of the infiniteWith awe and exaltation of the soulSuch as sublimity alone can bring.
And of this trio is Corona one;Her father, mother making it complete.For they have come from their far island homeTo meet their child beneath Italian skies,
