Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze
      Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer
      Was as the whisper of an air
To breathe thee over lonely seas.

For I in spirit saw thee move
      Thro' circles of the bounding sky,
      Week after week: the days go by:
Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

Henceforth, wherever thou may'st roam,
      My blessing, like a line of light,
      Is on the waters day and night,
And like a beacon guards thee home.

So may whatever tempest mars
      Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark;
      And balmy drops in summer dark
Slide from the bosom of the stars.

So kind an office hath been done,
      Such precious relics brought by thee;
      The dust of him I shall not see
Till all my widow'd race be run.


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Last modified 12 February 2010