(Norfolk Island).

A Ballad Of Emily Bay

His native pines rose tall and free, But none so tall and proud as he, So true his eye, so gay his air, That joy went with him everywhere, Went singing everywhere.

Across the meadows fresh and sweet, The shining dew about his feet, He passed with Emily at his side, Her hair sheer gold, a rosy bride, Sweet Emily, happy bride.

And on a day she watched him take His little boat for her dear sake, Swift through the white surf’s roar and leap To snare the monsters of the deep, The cold, contemptuous deep.

Oh, cruel the storm and cruel the wave That dragged him to the watery grave.

And oh! the bitter, bitter cries, The awful look in Emily’s eyes.

In Emily’s stricken eyes!

Then swiftly through the gale she sped To share her husband’s icy bed; They found her in the primrose dawn, Her yellow hair a flag forlorn, A flag of Love, forlorn.

And tender, sighing seas caressed, The bruised ivory of her breast; The ripples loved her as she lay Golden and white in Emily’s Bay, Sweet Emily’s golden bay.

M.M.