A Tropical Voyage.
By Park Benjamin.
It was the month, the saddest one
Of all the varied year;
The slant beams of the setting sun
Touched the long vapors, thick and dun,
Like hope that brightens fear.
And far and near, with dash and moan,
The waves, like prisoners, dungeon-pent,
Beat on the rocky bare;
When forth upon my voyage I went,
Companioned, yet alone!
Friends made I of the stars;
For, ere the day had slowly rolled,
The mists were all bedecked with gold,
And when dark shadows grew,
Those lustrous children of the Night
Looked with their tender eyes of light
Serenely from the blue.
I was no sage astrologer,
Yet in their pure and brilliant lore,
Without one cloud the page to blur,
As gently, smoothly, softly o'er
Now sparkling waves our vessel flowed,
Could I a radiant story see
Of that not far futurity,
That longed-for, sighed-for, dear abode,
From which, forlorn, I had departed,
To drink awhile the healing airs,
To taste the effluence, which imparted,
In answer to unfaltering prayers.
Of all the varied year;
The slant beams of the setting sun
Touched the long vapors, thick and dun,
Like hope that brightens fear.
And far and near, with dash and moan,
The waves, like prisoners, dungeon-pent,
Beat on the rocky bare;
When forth upon my voyage I went,
Companioned, yet alone!
Friends made I of the stars;
For, ere the day had slowly rolled,
The mists were all bedecked with gold,
And when dark shadows grew,
Those lustrous children of the Night
Looked with their tender eyes of light
Serenely from the blue.
I was no sage astrologer,
Yet in their pure and brilliant lore,
Without one cloud the page to blur,
As gently, smoothly, softly o'er
Now sparkling waves our vessel flowed,
Could I a radiant story see
Of that not far futurity,
That longed-for, sighed-for, dear abode,
From which, forlorn, I had departed,
To drink awhile the healing airs,
To taste the effluence, which imparted,
In answer to unfaltering prayers.
