Frank Samuel Williamson Poems

Lulled by song of bird, and wind, melodies of seas;
Waiting for the white man's foot, through the centuries,
Pent in solitudes enchanted, dreamed the mighty trees.
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There's a tumult in the distance, and a warsong in the air,
Where the foemen in their galleys, for another fight prepare,
For they whisper in the country, and they noise it in the town,
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Dear flag! Old flag! O, the blue and white,
Floating in the years long gone,
How our pulses beat,
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Long I've watched the eagle soaring, and the sun his colours pouring,
Till they fill the vale below me, as though with purple wine;
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His comrades bore him to the grave,
In column moving slow,
With pomp their faithful subjects gave
To monarchs long ago.
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Where the dreaming Tiber wanders by the haunted Appian Way,
Lo! the nightingale is uttering a sorrow-burdened lay
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I seemed a waste of weary land,
Lone, grey, forsaken by the sea,
The keen sun smote my naked sand,
The sultry wind made sport of me.
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Why should the mist rise from the stream.
A lyric on its bars!
And steal from every wave the gleam,
Begot by lover stars.
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Dew upon the robin as he lilts there, on the thorn,
Jewel on a scarlet breast a fleeting moment worn,
And suddenly by fairy hands into blue heaven drawn.
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I
She comes as comes the summer night,
Violet, perfumed, clad with stars,
To heal the eyes hurt by the light
Flung by Day's brandish'd scimitars.
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