[The first white man buried in Australia.]
ALL night long the sea out yonder -all night long the wailful sea,Vext of winds and many thunders,seeketh rest unceasingly!
Seeketh rest in dens of tempest where,like one distraught with pain,Shouts the wild-eyed sprite,Confusion:seeketh rest,and moans in vain!
Ah!but you should hear it calling,calling when the haggard sky Takes the darks and damps of Winter with the mournful marsh-fowl's cry;Even while the strong,swift torrents from the rainy ridges come Leaping down and breaking backwards -million-coloured shapes of foam!
Then,and then,the sea out yonder chiefly looketh for the boon Portioned to the pleasant valleys and the grave sweet summer moon:
Boon of Peace,the still,the saintly spirit of the dew-dells deep -Yellow dells,and hollows haunted by the soft dim dreams of sleep.
All night long the flying water breaks upon the stubborn rocks -Ooze-filled forelands burnt and blackened,smit and scarred with lightning shocks;But above the tender sea-thrift,but beyond the flowering fern,Runs a little pathway westward -pathway quaint with turn on turn -Westward trending,thus it leads to shelving shores and slopes of mist:
Sleeping shores,and glassy bays of green and gold and amethyst!
There tread gently -gently,pilgrim;there with thoughtful eyes look round;Cross thy breast and bless the silence:lo,the place is holy ground!
Holy ground for ever,stranger!All the quiet silver lights.Dropping from the starry heavens through the soft Australian nights -Dropping on those lone grave-grasses -come serene,unbroken,clear,Like the love of God the Father,falling,falling,year by year!
Yea,and like a Voice supernal,there the daily wind doth blow In the leaves above the Sailor buried ninety years ago.
