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14 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824---------)
VERY FAR AWAY
O
NE touch there is of magic white, Surpassing southern mountain's snow That to far sails the dying light Lends, where the dark ships onward go Upon the golden highway broad That leads up to the isles of God.
One touch of light more magic yet, Of rarer snow 'neath moon or star,
Where, with her graceful sails all set, Some happy vessel seen afar,
As if in an enchanted sleep
Steers o'er the tremulous stretching deep.
O ship ! O sail! far must ye be Ere gleams like that upon ye light.
O'er golden spaces of the sea,
From mysteries of the lucent night,
Such touch comes never to the boat
Wherein across the waves we float.
O gleams, more magic and divine, Life's whitest sail ye still refuse,
And flying on before us shine
Upon some distant bark ye choose.
By night or day, across the spray,
That sail is very far away. |
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