HALL

Sun-showered land! largess of golden light Is thine; and well-befitting since the night Of England voiced again Canute’s command; ah, not in vain! Backward the tides of savagery drew; And still the bright sands gain On the retreating main: A lost world leaping to the light and blue. In state the mountains greet an eve so fair, And sunset-crowns and robes of purple wear: A sea of glass the ocean, gold-inwrought— Pathway apocalyptic. From the prow A long bright ripple to the land is roll’d.... Haste thee and tell, tell of our love, with lips of gold, In soft sea-music tell! And thou, sweet bird, whose snowy wings have caught The universal glory, carry thou To that dear shore farewell—our hearts’ farewell! Arthur Vine Hall.