VISIONS

I never watch the sun set a-down the Western skies But that within its wonderness I see my mother’s eyes; I never hear the West wind sob softly in the trees But that there comes her broken call far o’er the distant seas; And never shine the dim stars but that my heart would go Away and back to olden lands and dreams of long ago. A rover of the wide world, when yet my heart was young The sea came whispering to me in well-beloved tongue, And oh! the promises she held of golden lands a-gleam That clung about my boy-heart and filled mine eyes with dream, And Wanderlust came luring me till ’neath the stars I swore That I would be a wanderer for ever, ever more. A-rover of the wide world, I’ve seen the Northern lights A-flashing countless colours in the knife-cold wintry nights; I’ve watched the Southern Cross ablaze o’er smiling, sunny lands, And seen the lazy sea caress palm-sheltered, silvery sands; Still wild unrest is scouring me, the Wanderlust of yore, And I must be a wanderer for ever, ever more. And yet, I see the sun set a-down the Western skies And glimpse within the wonderness my mother’s pleading eyes; And yet I hear the West wind sob softly in the trees, That vainly cloaks her broken call far o’er the distant seas; And still when shine the dim stars my wander heart would go Away and back to her side, and dreams of long ago.