At Algeciras - A Meditaton Upon Death

The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden trees Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas. Often at evening when a boy Would I carry to a friend - Hoping more substantial joy Did an older mind commend - Not such as are in Newton's metaphor, But actual shells of Rosses' level shore. Greater glory in the Sun, An evening chill upon the air, Bid imagination run Much on the Great Questioner; What He can question, what if questioned I Can with a fitting confidence reply.