Australia

Last sea-thing dredged by sailor Time from Space,
Are you a drift Sargasso, where the West
In halcyon calm rebuilds her fatal nest ?
Or Delos of a coming Sun-God's race ?
Are you for Light, and trimmed, with oil in place,
Or but a Will o' Wisp on marshy quest ?
A new demesne for Mammon to infest ?

Or lurks millennial Eden 'neath your face ?
The cenotaphs of species dead elsewhere
That in your limits leap and swim and fly,
Or trail uncanny harp-strings from your trees,
Mix omens with the auguries that dare
To plant the Cross upon your forehead sky,
A virgin helpmate Ocean at your knees.