I

Behind me lie the Everglades, The mystic grassy Everglades, Where the moccasin and the Seminole glide In secret silent Indian ways. Before me lies the Gulf, The cup of blue bright tropic waters, Held to the parched lips of the South To cool and quench its thirst.

Behind me lie the Everglades, Before me lies the Gulf, Which the sunset soon shall change to wine, A Eucharist for the longing soul. Its rim of land shall be transformed To Mexic opal and chrysoprase, And then shall come the moon As calm as a thought of Christ.

As calm as a thought of Christ-- Over the cup's sand-rim enchased With palm and pine, Floridian friends, Saying their twilight litanies; While homeward flies the heron To his island cypress in the swamp, Which Spanish mosses drape and the moon Silverly soothes to peace.