The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL TO DR. PRIESTLEY. DEC. 29, 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONG by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN THE EXILE'S RETURN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH by ROBERT BURNS ARTEMIS ON LATMOS by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |