I Dream of Islands

Here, where the desert drowses in the sun And heat, I dream of cool, Pacific nights . . .

There, on the island, when the day is done, The beach, the sea, and all the wide lagoon Are turned to silver by the rising moon.

Silvered the jagged reef where waves break white And cool. The little whispering winds of night Breathe softly through the palms.

A night bird flies On silvered wings across the silvered skies.

Cool in the jewelled seas the island lies...

Here, where the sun has blinded all with light, I dream of islands in the tropic night.

Marjorie C. Mclaughlin,