The Rose of Dawn A Tale of the South Sea

Excerpt

Scraping across the beach the boats were launched,
And as they touched the waves, they seemed to take
New shape and dignity with that caress
Of little lapping ripples round the prow.
Uhila led the fleet as one who knew
His right by reason of his age and skill.
The little isle seemed now a sleeping maid
Kirtled in green, the beach her snowy breast
Veined with the purple brooks that sought the sea.
Uhila watched it fade below the blue,
Crouched in the bow, his grizzled chin in hand,
Taking his ease, while small Kuma, keen-eyed,
Famed for his daring, paddled lustily.
The dawn had not yet broken, and the soft
Beautiful haze that veils the birth of day
Hung on the water. Loath to break the peace,
Men gave their orders in hushed tones, the clean
Chill of the morning wrapt their naked bodies.
Then, as a slow blush mounts the cheek, a light
Breathed from the sea, and all the air seemed warm
As at the touch of spring, a violet streak,
A pale leaf green, a golden, and a rose
Broke in the sky, and morning was revealed.
With a shrill cry, young Kuma raised his hand
And pointed where with dip and shriek and wheel
A flock of sea birds hovered; all the rest
Echoed the call and bending to the paddle
Shot o'er the waves, for now the fish were gained.
Uhila grasped his rod, and at the stern
Tossed out the shining hook, with laugh and cheer
A glint of silver flashed, then all the air
Was gemmed with streaming stars. They came from deeps;
From azure fairer than its mother sky
Clouded with dazzling whitenesses of foam.
Luck to their fishing:
Now, fair and remote
A scattered emerald from a broken chain
Lying below the bending breast of heaven,
The village had awakened,—once again
Serene Kambara, island of the south,
Exhaled its light upon the light of heaven.
The verdure seemed to shine with lucent green,
The red hibiscus burned with inward flame,
And in the village happy song and shout
Proclaimed the day was fair. Blue upon blue
The bright waves glittered like a shattered star
Set in the silver crescent of the sand.
The palm trees' plume uplifted dauntlessly
To call the morning. At the forest's brim
The day was made alive by human flowers,
Sweet maidens who against the emerald
Showed warm and brown in purest harmony.
The fierce bright flame that is the tropic sea
Burned on their eyes and called them to its heart.
Like eager sea birds they forgot the land,
And, happy as the amorous waves, they gave
Their slim brown bodies to the sea's embrace.
They found them driftwood and astride they leapt
The feathered breakers, one with daring skill
Curved her sweet length to lie within the palm
Of a strong wave, and so was brought to shore.
"Taka," they cried, "has beaten us;" and all,
Shaking the bright drops from their shining hair,
With laugh and song sprang to the beach again,
Sunning themselves to languor ere they made
Their pretty toilet.
Some had gathered flowers
In fragrant wreaths, and others brought the grave
Work of the morning....