The Unnamed Lake and Other Poems

by Frederick George Scott




THERE lies a lone isle in the tropic seas,—
    A mountain isle, with beaches shining white,
    Where soft stars smile upon its sleep by night,
And every noon-day fans it with a breeze.
Here on a cliff, carved upward from the knees,
    Three uncouth statues of gigantic height,
    Upon whose brows the circling sea-birds light,
Stare out to ocean, over the tall trees.

Forever gaze they at the sea and sky,
    Forever hear the thunder of the main,

        Forever watch the ages die away;
And ever round them rings the phantom cry
    Of some lost race that died in human pain,
        Looking towards heaven, yet seeing no more than they.