Somnolent, vast, inert, the darkness lay Waiting for dawn. Across the ocean stirred A luminous haze, not light, but whispering light, So softly yet, the islands had not heard. The mystery of sleep was in the trees And on the weary stars. A little cry That broke the silence seemed a sacrilege. Then thro' the palm trees glided like a ghost A dusky form; the curtain of the dark Was rent with life, the forest brought forth men. Instinct with morning every eye was bright, Tho' sleep so lately lay across their lids. No sinister intent had called them forth Upon the shadows. May held out her hands, And all the men who dared the dangerous sport Were faring where the great bonita played,-- Strong sh…
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