Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. The DepartureEpes Sargent (1813–1880)
A
Again thy waves are flashing in my sight!
Thy memory-haunting tones again I hear,
As through the waves our vessel wings her flight!
On thy cerulean breast, now swelling high,
Again, thou broad Atlantic, am I cast!
Six years, with gathering speed, have glided by,
Since, an adventurous boy, I hailed thee last;
The sea-birds o’er me wheel, as if to greet
An old companion; on my naked brow
The sparkling foam-drops not unkindly beat;
Flows through my hair the freshening breeze; and now
The horizon’s ring enclasps me; and I stand
Gazing where fades from view, cloud-like, my fatherland!