To the Emigrants

I rested by the silent Firth
Horizon-less in autumn mist
Save where he sun in golden mirth
The far off waters kissed.

And suddenly there came a wave
That spake in surges at my foot
And ceased - a messenger that gave
His message and was mute.

Across the sea a glance I cast -
A sea all glassy smooth again-:
A great grey ship went gliding past -
I read my message then.

I blest her as she passed me by:
O may the gleam of western gold
That lies before them where they fly
A happy omen hold!