Classic Poem

In a green valley, nested soft in trees
All blossom-sweet of spring in bourgeoning bloom,
The fair days pass, far from my childhood home —
Dear rocky islet cradled in mid-seas.
I hear no more the thunderous ocean breeze
Sweep by, sweep by; the wild surf's sullen boom
Smite the jagg'd reef; nor see, 'mid gathering gloom,
The churning waves froth, roughly, ill at ease.

But sometimes when the night falls, and I hear
Dream voices speak of old loves unforgot,
I hold a sea-shell to my straining ear: —
Again, again, unutterably sweet,
Unutterably sad, its murmurs beat
Against my heart, and time and space are not.