Treasure Island

Arthur Patchett Martin

(18 February 1851 – 15 February 1902 / Woolwich, Kent, England)

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Bushland


Not sweeter to the storm-tossed mariner
   Is glimpse of home, where wife and children wait
   To welcome him with kisses at the gate,
Than to the town-worn man the breezy stir
   Of mountain winds on rugged pathless heights:
   His long-pent soul drinks in the deep delights
That Nature hath in store. The sun-kissed bay
   Gleams thro' the grand old gnarled gum-tree boughs
Like burnished brass; the strong-winged bird of prey
Sweeps by, upon his lonely vengeful way --
   While over all, like breath of holy vows,
   The sweet airs blow, and the high-vaulted sky
Looks down in pity this fair Summer day
   On all poor earth-born creatures doomed to die.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

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  • * Sunprincess * (5/27/2014 11:34:00 AM)

    .~ Like burnished brass; the strong-winged bird of prey
    Sweeps by, upon his lonely vengeful way -
    While over all, like breath of holy vows,
    The sweet airs blow, and the high-vaulted sky
    Looks down in pity this fair Summer day
    On all poor earth-born creatures doomed to die. ~
    ..........even on a beautiful summer day death still visits..... (Report) Reply

  • Michelle Claus (4/28/2014 11:21:00 AM)

    Well, the first half of the poem contrasts the homesick mariner and the restless land-locked dweller. But the second half of the poem describes the bay and portends a death. Somewhat confusing. (Report) Reply

  • Michelle Claus (4/28/2014 11:21:00 AM)

    Well, the first half of the poem contrasts the homesick mariner and the restless land-locked dweller. But the second half of the poem describes the bay and portends a death. Somewhat confusing. (Report) Reply

  • Is It Poetry (4/28/2013 6:59:00 PM)

    I wait,
    the man in grey.
    The apple's,
    poisoned
    tree.
    As I, await.
    Each ship,
    that comes in.
    Leaving me without doubts....iip (Report) Reply

Read all 6 comments »

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