Zóphiël’s Zephyrs

We gaze into blue depths of Western skies
Shades of Columbus, here thy relics rest
Soon over Meles’ grave the wild flower dropt

T’is now the hour of mirth, the hour of love
Over that coast whither wronged Dido fled
How beauteous thou art, O morning Sun!

Adieu fair isle! – I have loved thy bowers
The dearth is sore: the orange leaf curled
Sweet is the evening twilight — but, alas!

. . . . .

Poet: Susan Powers Bourne
Source: Women.Poets.Massachusetts
Poem Zóphiël by Maria Gowen Brooks
Process: Pick and mix cento