Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MULL, by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS



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MULL, by            
First Line: Tell me not of grecian isles / and a charm that's olden
Last Line: Horns of elfland surely!
Subject(s): Islands


TELL me not of Grecian isles
And a charm that's olden,
Brooding on the turquoise blue
That the Argo's oar-banks knew,
Where a sun-steeped ease beguiles,
Far away, and golden!

There's a Western isle I know,
Where the last land merges
In the grey and outer seas,
Southward from the Hebrides,
And through old sea-caverns go
Old Atlantic dirges!

Grey it is, and very still
In the August weather;
Grey the basking seals that flock
On their jaggéd lift of rock;
Starkly heaves a waste of hill
Grey, untouched of heather!

Grey streams show, by cliff and hag,
Pools, and runs that riot,
There the great grey sea-trout rise
Splashing silver at your flies,
There the grey crow from the crag
Croaks across the quiet!

That's the place where I would be,
Where the winds blow purely;
For I hear, by Fancy blest,
All the Fairies of the West
Sound their silver pipes for me—
Horns of Elfland surely!





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