Lincoln Ross Colcord

Gaspar Straits

We passed the Watcher at night
And dawn put out its sinking light;
All day we held the fair monsoon,
All night we ran beneath the moon;
And in the early morning hours
We smelled the near land and the flowers,
And saw, abeam, the hillsides on
The southwest point of Billiton.
A little lighthouse, white as snow,
Looked out upon the strait below;
Each garden was a tiny square,
Terraced and blooming everywhere;
Toy cows were grazing on the grass,
Toy men ran down to see us pass;
It must have been a pleasant place,
To wear that glad and smiling face;
But we held such a steady breeze,
The village soon was lost in trees.