ISSUE: Spring 1925
Hearing Winter ponder
Whether Spring shall come again,
Whether much remains of pleasure
In the latitudes of pain,
On my ear are faint and foreign
Halloos of the Spanish Main.
Lift and take me yonder,
O some Old Man of the Sea,
To the home of Sleeping Beauty,
Built of coral masonry;
And there fill the days with dreaming
Of the nights of silver glee…
Roses rarely wander
Beyond sight or sign of land,
And are said to thrill and quicken
When soul-stark and still they stand:
And my heart is as a rose is,
Cast on a Bermuda strand.
