Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Oceanica: Vol. XXXI. 1876–79.
A Song of Pitcairns Island
By William Cullen Bryant (17941878)C
Before our cabin-door;
The winds shall bring us, as they blow,
The murmurs of the shore;
And we will kiss his young blue eyes,
And I will sing him, as he lies,
Songs that were made of yore;
I ’ll sing, in his delighted ear,
The island lays thou lov’st to hear.
Thy country’s tongue shalt teach;
’T is not so soft, but far more sweet,
Than my own native speech:
For thou no other tongue didst know,
When, scarcely twenty moons ago,
Upon Tahete’s beach,
Thou cam’st to woo me to be thine,
With many a speaking look and sign.
My eyes, my locks of jet;
Ah! well for me they won thy gaze,—
But thine were fairer yet!
I ’m glad to see my infant wear
Thy soft blue eyes and sunny hair,
And when my sight is met
By his white brow and blooming cheek,
I feel a joy I cannot speak.
Whose necks and cheeks, they tell,
Outshine the beauty of the sea,
White foam and crimson shell.
I ’ll shape like theirs my simple dress,
And bind like them each jetty tress,—
A sight to please thee well;
And for my dusky brow will braid
A bonnet like an English maid.
We lose the pleasant hours;
’T is lovelier than these cottage walls,
That seat among the flowers.
And I will learn of thee a prayer,
To Him, who gave a home so fair,
A lot so blessed as ours,—
The God who made, for thee and me,
This sweet lone isle amid the sea.