CCXVI
ON LEAVING TABLE BAY
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.
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