Scarce flutters a plume, for the days are so calm,
And Pale Death her grim Captain pale lepers her crew.
And Pale Death her grim Captain pale lepers her crew.
VII.
An empire of death! O, the world has not known,
In all its great story of trouble and wrong,
Another like Molokai, drear and alone,
Where Pluto, the hope-slayer, sits on his throne
And rules as a tyrant, unchecked in his pride,
With none to dispute him and none to deride,
And never a traitor in all the sad throng!
In all its great story of trouble and wrong,
Another like Molokai, drear and alone,
Where Pluto, the hope-slayer, sits on his throne
And rules as a tyrant, unchecked in his pride,
With none to dispute him and none to deride,
And never a traitor in all the sad throng!
VIII.
The red suns wheel over and drown in the sea;
Like clustering lilies the white stars decay ;
Moons blossom, and wither; but windward or lee
No rising sail beckons or bids them be free,
Till low-sailing sea-mists, unmasted and pale,
Drift over the palm-trees, and drop within hail
Of the sorrowing spirits, and waft them away.
Like clustering lilies the white stars decay ;
Moons blossom, and wither; but windward or lee
No rising sail beckons or bids them be free,
Till low-sailing sea-mists, unmasted and pale,
Drift over the palm-trees, and drop within hail
Of the sorrowing spirits, and waft them away.
AN OUT-OF-DOOR SONG
Come with me, oh, you world-weary,
To the haunts of thrush and veery,
To the cedar's dim cathedral,
And the palace of the pine,
Let the soul within you capture
To the haunts of thrush and veery,
To the cedar's dim cathedral,
And the palace of the pine,
Let the soul within you capture
