Sonnet by J.C. Squire There was an Indian, who had known no change, Who strayed content along a sunlit beach Gathering shells. He heard a sudden strange Commingled noise: looked up; and gasped for speech. For in the bay, where nothing was before, Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes, With bellying cloths on poles, and not one oar, And fluttering coloured signs and clambering crews. And he, in fear, this naked man alone, His fallen hands forgetting all their shells, His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone, And stared, and saw, and did not understand, Columbuss doom-burdened caravels Slant to the shore, and all their seamen land.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 14:36:20 +0000
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