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The Zone of Calms
The Zone of Calms

As yearning currents from the trackless snows,
And silent Polar seas, unceasing sweep
To South, to North, and linger not where leap
Red fires from glistening cones,--nor where the rose
Has triumph on the snow-fed Paramos,
In upper air,--nor yet where lifts the deep
Its silver Atollis on whose bosoms sleep
The purple sponges; and, as in repose
Meeting at last, they sink upon the breast
Of that sweet tropic sea, whose spicy balms
And central heat have drawn them to its arms,--
So soul seeks soul, unsatisfied, represt,
Till in Love's tropic met, they sink to rest,
At peace forever in the "Zone of Calms."

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