The Sea Faery

The Sea Faery

By Madison Julius Cawein
1865 – 1914

M J Cawein
M J Cawein

    She was strange as the orchids that blossom
And glimmer and shower their balm
And bloom on the tropical ocean,
That crystals round islands of palm:
And she sang to and beckoned and bound me
With beauty immortal and calm.

She was wild as the spirits that banner,
Auroral, the ends of the Earth,
With polar processions, that battle
With Darkness; or, breathing, give birth
To Silence; and herd from the mountains
The icebergs, gigantic of girth.

She was silver as sylphids who blend with
The morning the pearl of their cheeks:
And rosy as spirits whose tresses
Trail golden the sunset with streaks:
An opaline presence that beckoned
And spake as the sea-rapture speaks:

“Come with me! come down in the ocean!
Yea, leave this dark region with me!
Come! leave it! forget it in thunder
And roll of the infinite sea!
Come with me! No mortal bliss equals
The bliss I shall give unto thee.” . . .

And so it was then that she bound me
With witchcraft no mortal divines,
While softly with kisses she drew me,
As the moon draws a dream from the pines,
Down, down to her cavern of coral,
Where ever the sea-serpent twines.

And ever the creatures, whose shadows
Bulk huge as an isle on the sight,
Swim cloud-like and vast, without number,
Around her who leans, like a light,
And smiles at me sleeping, pale-sleeping,
Wrapped deep in her mermaiden might.

The Orchard

The Orchard

By Jean Blewett
1862 – 1934

Jean Blewett Canadian Poet - The Orchard
Jean Blewett

There’s no garden like an orchard,
Nature shows no fairer thing
Than the apple trees in blossom
In these late days o’ the spring.

Here the robin redbreast’s nesting,
Here, from golden dawn till night,
Honey bees are gaily swimming
In a sea of pink and white.

Just a sea of fragrant blossoms,
Steeped in sunshine, drenched in dew,
Just a fragrant breath which tells you
Earth is fair again and new.

Just a breath of subtle sweetness,
Breath which holds the spice o’ youth,
Holds the promise o’ the summer –
Holds the best o’ things, forsooth.

There’s no garden like an orchard,
Nature shows no fairer thing
Than the apple trees in blossom
In these late days o’ the spring.

For a Creole Lady

For a Creole Lady

by Charles Baudelaire
1821 – 1867

 

Off in a perfumed land bathed gently by the sun,
Under a palm tree’s shade tinged with a crimson trace,
A place where indolence drops on the eyes like rain,
I met a Creole lady of unstudied grace.

Charles Baudelaire - For a Creole Lady
Charles Baudelaire

 

This brown enchantress’ skin is warm and light in tone;
Her neck is noble, proud, her manner dignified;
Slender and tall, she goes with huntress’ easy stride;
Her smile is tranquil, and her eyes are confident.

Madame, if you should come to place of pride and praise
Beside the green Loire, or by the pleasant Seine,
Adorning ancient mansions with your stately ways

There in the shelter of the shady groves, you’d start
A thousand sonnets blooming in the poets’ hearts,
Whom your great eyes would turn to sycophants and slaves.

The Cat

By Oliver Herford
1863-1935

Oliver Herford
Oliver Herford

OB-SERVE the Cat up-on this page.
Phil-os-o-phers in ev-er-y age,
The ver-y wis-est of the wise,
Have tried her mind to an-a-lyze
In vain, for noth-ing can they learn.
She baf-fles them at ev-er-y turn
Like Mis-ter Ham-let in the play.
She leads their rea-son-ing a-stray;
She feigns an in-ter-est in string
Or yarn or any roll-ing thing.
Un-like the Dog, she does not care
With com-mon Man her thoughts to share.
She teach-es us that in life’s walk
‘T is bet-ter to let oth-ers talk,
And lis-ten while they say in-stead
The fool-ish things we might have said.

Songs of the Fleet – The Middle Watch

by Henry John Newbolt, Sir
1862-1938

In a blue dusk the ship astern
Uplifts her slender spars,
With golden lights that seem to burn

John Henry Newbolt
John Henry Newbolt


Among the silver stars.
Like fleets along a cloudy shore
The constellations creep,
Like planets on the ocean floor
Our silent course we keep.

And over the endless plain,
Out of the night forlorn
Rises a faint refrain,
A song of the day to be born–
Watch, oh watch till ye find again
Life and the land of morn.

From a dim West to a dark East
Our lines unwavering head,
As if their motion long had ceased
And Time itself were dead.

Vainly we watch the deep below,
Vainly the void above,
They died a thousand years ago–
Life and the land we love.

But over the endless plain,
Out of the night forlorn
Rises a faint refrain,
A song of the day to be born–
Watch, oh watch till ye find again
Life and the land of morn.