Childhood - III

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TO---


  So when, mere child, I crossed the Atlantic tide,
  Ah! ne'er to see our Carib isle again—
  There, as it chanced, the watchful seaman spied
  A bark come drifting o'er the azure plain;
  Which, as it neared us, we beheld it void
  Of living thing—alone on that wide main;
  Hinting a tale of wretches that had died
  By rock, or whelming surge, or hunger-slain
  On the waste wave. So on that bark did go
  Unquestioned; bearing o'er the waters blue
  Its own mysterious story—none might know;
  But left me, as it faded on the view,
  With spirit stirred, and eye unconsciously
  That strained upon that solitary sea.

© John Kenyon