O! to breathe the blessëd air

[From: The Last Journal of Gwyllyn]

O! to breathe the blessëd air
full of pearl and blazing gold,
of juniper and marigold,
on distant islands ever-fair.

The sundering waves surge like hills
crashing down to very hell,
with deeps that teem with krakens fell
- but hark, the song of whippoorwills!

Rising soft above the fray,
a song no tumult could defile
from a blissful garden-isle
blooming out in Ever-Day!

O! for wings to hasten there,
across the wide and surging sea,
to find the fair birds calling me
from the bright and blessëd air!