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A sacred trust to thee is given;
Bright Island! let thy healing air
Be to him as the breath of Heaven.
The marvel of his daring life—
The self-forgetting leader bold—
Stirs, like the trumpet's call to strife,
A million hearts of meaner mould.
Eyes that shall never meet his own
Look dim with tears across the sea,
Where from the dark and icy zone,
Sweet Isle of Flowers! he comes to thee.
Fold him in rest, O pitying clime!
Give back his wasted strength again;
Soothe, with thy endless summer time,
His winter-wearied heart and brain.
Sing soft and low, thou tropic bird,
From out the fragrant, flowery tree,—
The ear that hears thee now has heard
The ice-break of the winter sea.
Through his long watch of awful night,
He saw the Bear in Northern skies;
Now, to the Southern Cross of light
He lifts in hope his weary eyes.
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