My Tropic Isle

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promise but flabby of performance, giving way to evening calms. Then came slashing south-easters which, having

e moon, halfway down on her westward course, shines over a scene solemn in its st

eird, resonant tappings, moans, and gurgles come from a hollow log drifting, with infinite slowness. Broken sighs and gasps tell where the ripples advancing in echelon wander and lose their way among blocks of sandstone. As the tide rose it prattled and gurgled, toying with tinkling shells and clinking coral, each tone separate and distinct, however thin and faint. My so

the southern slope, where the gradient is easy, the wavelets glide up with heedless hiss and slide back with shuffling whisper, scarce mov

iacally. Once there were flutterings among the nutmeg pigeons in the star-proof jungle of the crowded inlet to the south. A cockatoo has shrieked out in

aring. This death-like pause, this awful blank, this tense, anxious lapse, this pulseless, stifling silence is brief. A frail moan, just audible, comes from the direction of the vanishing moon. There is

ping, coaxing, companionable sea the serene and sparkling sky, the glow beyond the worlds, the listening isles - demure and dim - the air moist, pacific and fragrant - what concern of mine if the smoky messenger from the stuffy town never comes? This is the

serene sky! Dare I, at this inspiring moment, attempt what they missed, merely because they lacked direct inspiration? Those who once lived in Egypt saw the sumptuous southern jewel, and it may again glitter vainly for the bewi

repugnant breasts. Some of the milk dripped and as it fell was dissipated in the heavens - and there is the Milky Way. Other drops reached the earth and, falling on the lily, which hitherto had been purpl

d of all consciousness of sense of duration. Time was not made for such ecstasies, which are

ge presenteth

rs in secret in

wamps where slim palms and lank tea-trees stand in crowded, whispering ranks knee-deep in dull bro

truly unruly member, wagging disrespectfully at the decent night. Now a perky top-knot, and presently no head at all. Lumbering, low-lying, cowardly - a plaything, a toy, a mockery, a sport for the wilful zephyrs. Now it lifts a bully head as it creeps unimpeded across the sea and spreads, infinitely soft, all-encomp

d misty edges may not be further compressed, but the air is warm, thick, sticky, and

ly picks up crabs as if it were a trespasser, conscious of a shameful or wicked deed and fearful of detection. It is not night nor yet quite day, but this keen-eyed, suspicious bird knows all the permanent features

ead of from me, whimpering "plin, plin" as it passes and, still curious though ale

day. Detached and erratic patches of ripples appear - tiptoe touches of sportful elves tripping from the isles to the continent, whisking merrily, the faintest flicks of dainty toes makin

inland a smudge of brown, blurred and shifting, in the far distance - the only evidence of the existence of human schemes and agitations - the only stain on the