AFTER a night of languor without rest,--
Striving to sleep, yet wishing morn might come,
By the pent, scorching atmosphere oppressed,
Impatient of the vile mosquito's hum,--
With what reviving freshness from the sea,
Its airy plumage glittering with the spray,
Comes the strong day-breeze, rushing joyously
Into the bright arms of the encircling bay!
It tempers the keen ardor of the sun;
The drooping frame with life renewed it fills;
It lashes the green waters as they run;
It sways the graceful palm-tree on the hills;
It breathes of ocean solitudes, and caves,
Luminous, vast and cool, far down beneath the waves.