Melody

Where white in the jungles

  Lay bones of the dead,

All night the wild lioness

  Howled as she fed:

The wind hot and sultry.

  And scarcely awake.

Through the dust of the desert-sand

  Crept like a snake.

But a beacon gleamed redly

  The blue rocks along,

Where a golden-tressed maiden

  Sat singing her son:

With her passionate warble

  The white sea-mist stirred,

And a boat to the desert shore

  Flew like a bird.

The deep burning blushes

  That cover her brow,

In a lover’s embraces

  Are all hidden now.

Wild rover of ocean,

  Proud scorner of storms,

Guard fondly the treasure

  Thus clasped in thine arms.

As the eyes of the pilgrim.

  Wherever he be,

Turn, down-trodden city

  Of beauty, to thee:

Turn thou, in life’s pauses

Of dimness and care.

To the sweet love of woman,

  That all things will dare!