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Atoll

 The woes of men beyond my ken
Mean nothing more to me.
Behold my world, and Eden hurled From Heaven to the Sea; A jeweled home, in fending foam Tempestuously tossed; A virgin isle none dare defile, Far-flung, forgotten, lost.
And here I dwell, where none may tell Me tales of mortal strife; Let millions die, immune am I, And radiant with life.
No echo comes of evil drums, To vex my dawns divine; Aloof, alone I hold my throne, And Majesty is mine.
Ghost ships pass by, and glad am I They make no sign to me.
The green corn springs, the gilt vine clings, The net is in the sea.
My paradise around me lies, Remote from wrath and wrong; My isle is clean, unsought, unseen, And innocent with song.
Here let me dwell in beauty's spell, As tranquil as a tree; Here let me bide, where wind and tide Bourdon that I am free; Here let me know from human woe The rapture of release: The rich caress of Loveliness, The plenitude of Peace.

Poem by Robert William Service
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