Badger_Island

             Badger�s Island

I am dreaming of a fair green isle
   That lies so far away,
Where the sparkling blue Piscataqua
    Flows down to meet the bay.

An island like a jewel fair
   Upon the river�s breast
Where blue waves curl and kiss the shore
   And murmur songs of rest.

Where in the springtime soft and fair
   The lilac tossed her plume,
And orchard boughs are bending low
   Beneath their weight of bloom.

Here daisies nod in summer time,
   With buttercups bright hue:
Where rocks and trees and fleecy clouds
   Are mirrored in the blue.

The waves by ruder breezes tossed
   Are sparkling white with foam,
They dash upon the rocky shore,
   Then seek their ocean home.

Here when the quiet stars come out,
   And the crescent moon hangs low,
A fleet of phantom ships sail by �
   The ships of long ago.

With rattling cordage, straining mast,
   And flapping ghostly sail,
With rusty anchors at their bow,
   That have held in many a gale.

The sound of toilers at their task
   Is faintly heard once more,
And the stately hull of a gallant bark
   Stands dark upon the shore.

An aged man with silvered hair,
   With feeble steps and slow,
Walks forth to look upon his ships,
   The ships of long ago.

Perhaps no other eyes than mine
   Those phantom ships can see,
But fancy waived her magic wand,
   And gave to me the key

When city lights in Portsmouth burn,
   And pale the stars look down,
On William Badger�s lonely tomb,
   And Kittery�s sleeping town.

As long as that fair river flows,
   With channel deep and wide,
Her phantom ships shall sail for aye,
   Or at her shores shall ride.

And ever when the spring returns
   And summer days shall smile,
In fancy I shall roam once more
   O�re far off Badger�s Isle

That little island fair and green
   That lies so far away,
Where the sparkling blue Piscataqua
   Flows down to meet the bay