After a night of languor without rest,—
Striving to sleep, yet wishing morn might come
By the pent, scorching atmosphere oppressed,
Impatient of the vile mosquito's hum,—
With what reviving freshness from the sea,
Its airy plumage glittering with the spray,
Comes the strong day-breeze, rushing joyously
Into the bright arms of the encircling bay!
It tempers the keen ardor of the sun;
The drooping frame with life renewed it fills;
It lashes the green waters as they run;
It sways the graceful palm-tree on the hills;
It breathes of ocean solitudes, and caves,
Luminous, vast, and cool, far down beneath the waves.