Classic Poem

Upon the lone Australian shore,
A chance-sent traveller's careless eye,
Saw a white bird swoop down and lie
With wide wings that should soar no more.

A feeble quiver shook the bird,
A film the glazing eye o'erspread;
Once more the pearly plumage stirred,
And then the Albatross was dead.

He spread the giant pinions wide,
When 'neath the snowy down he found
By hands unknown securely bound,
A sea-worn missive safe and sound.

And when the blotted page he read,
This message bore it from the sea —
" Five shipwrecked sailors, mourned as dead,
A thousand miles from land are we;

" Whoe'er thou art whose hand shall take
Our poor winged messenger, we pray
That thou wilt spare him for our sake,
And send him scatheless on his way.

" Hardly we hope our words shall find
Response, save by some blessed chance;
Good friend who readest this be kind,
And speed us to our well-loved France. "

The traveller stood and musing read,
Some new-born pity filled his breast,
Seeing that poor envoy lie at rest,
The living speaking thro' the dead.

And soon to save those helpless men,
A stout ship, many a weary mile
Sailed forth, and found their lonely isle,
And sped them to their homes again.

But I, as o'er this tale I stay
My wandering fancy, seem to hear,
A voice which comes my heart to cheer,
A silent voice which seems to say,

" Thus is it with the world around,
For tho' the messenger be gone,
Some winged thought with his being bound,
O'er all the world goes echoing on.

" And though its tones sound faint and weak,
Lost in the rude world's clamorous strife,
The message of dead lips can speak
To souls in prison, words of life! "