Morning at Sea in the Tropics

NIGHT waned and wasted, and the fading stars   
Died out like lamps that long survived a feast,   
And the moon, pale with watching, sank to rest   
Behind the cloud-piled ramparts of the main.   
Young, blooming Morn, crowned with her bridal wreath,           
Bent o’er her mirror clear, the faithful sea;   
And gazing on her loveliness therein,   
Blushed to the brows, till every imaged charm   
Flung roses on the bosom of the wave,   
Then, glancing heavenward, both, they blushed again,           
As sprang the Sun to claim his radiant bride;   
And sea and sky seemed but one rose of morn,   
Which thenceforth grew in glory, and the world   
Shot back her lesser light upon the day,   
While night sped on to seek the sombre shades           
That sleep in silent caves beyond the sea.   
The day grew calmer, hotter, and our barque   
Lay like a sleeping swan upon a lake,   
And such soft airs as blew from off the land   
Brought with them fragrant odours, and we felt           
That orange groves lay blooming ’neath the sun   
Which blazed so fiercely overhead at sea.   
We heard (with Fancy’s ear) a distant bell;   
And thro’ the haze that simmered on the Main   
Pictured a purple shore—a convent tow’r           
And snowy cots, that from the dark hill-side   
Peeped forth ’tween plantain-patches at the sky,   
Or smiled through groves of cocos on the sea.   
Meanwhile our ship slid on, with breathing sails   
Fraught with the melody of murmured song           
Such as the zephyr chanted to the morn,   
And showers of diamonds flashed before the prow   
While sternwards whirled unstrung—pale beads of foam,   
Pearls from the loosen’d chaplet of the sea.   
’Mid these the flame-bright Nautilus, that seemed           
Itself a flow’ret cast upon the stream,   
Spread out its crimson sail and drifted on.   
Beyond arose a cloud (as ’twere) of birds,   
That leapt from out the wave to meet the sun,   
Flew a short circuit, till their wings grew dry,           
And seaward fell in showers of silver rain.   
’Mid these careered the dolphin-squadrons swift,   
With mail of changeful hue, and Iris tints;   
And floating slowly on, a sea-flow’r passed,   
A living creature (none the less a flow’r)           
That lives its life in love, and dies for joy,   
Unmissed ’mid myriads in the sapphire sea.