Classic Poem

Not here the spicy breezes float,
Nor palms luxuriant wave,
Nor brilliant birds with curious note
In sparkling fountains lave;
For this is not Sumatra's isle,
Upon which rests Good Fortune's smile.

But here the cool sea-breezes blow
Through summer's sunny hours,
And Health's glad angels come and go,
With soothing, magic powers;
And to the invalid it seems
The “Fortune Island” of his dreams.

Away from care, away from toil,
The wanderer here may rest,
And find upon his native soil
The joys he loves the best:
Sweet converse with each long-loved friend,
And peace in God that knows no end.

To me this isle is doubly dear,
Because my birth-place twice:
The tender Shepherd found me here,
And bade me know his voice.
Ah! then this “island of the sea”
Hath been Good Fortune's isle to me.

God bless our sea-beat island home!
Where Freedom early found
A refuge from an unjust doom
Is surely hallowed ground.
And, reader, may it prove to thee,
“Insula Bonæ Fortunæ”!