The Hunter

"But there was one land he dared not enter."


Beyond the blue, the purple seas,
Beyond the thin horizon's line,
Beyond Antilla, Hebrides,
Jamaica, Cuba, Caribbees,
There lies the land of Yucatan.

The land, the land of Yucatan,
The low coast breaking into foam,
The dim hills where my thoughts shall roam
The forests of my boyhood's home,
The splendid dream of Yucatan!

I met thee first long, long ago
Turning a printed page, and I
Stared at a world I did not know
And felt my blood like fire flow
At that strange name of Yucatan.

O those sweet, far-off Austral days
When life had a diviner glow,
When hot Suns whipped my blood to know
Things all unseen, then I could go
Into thy heart O Yucatan!

I have forgotten what I saw,
I have forgotten what I knew,
And many lands I've set sail for
To find that marvellous spell of yore,
Never to set foot on thy shore
O haunting land of Yucatan!

But sailing I have passed thee by,
And leaning on the white ship's rail
Watched thy dim hills till mystery
Wrapped thy far stillness close to me
And I have breathed ''tis Yucatan!

''Tis Yucatan, 'tis Yucatan!'
The ship is sailing far away,
The coast recedes, the dim hills fade,
A bubble-winding track we've made,
And thou'rt a Dream O Yucatan!

W.J. Turner

Walter James Redfern Turner, an Australian-born, English-domiciled writer, was instrumental in the early 20th-century literary scene. Known for both his poetry and his work as a music critic, Turner contributed significantly to the cultural landscape of his time. His poem "Romance" is particularly noted for its evocative depiction of childhood and memory, showcasing his lyrical prowess and ability to weave narrative and emotion.

W.J. Turner

The Sky-Sent Death

W.J. Turner, Simple Poetry

The Caves Of Auvergne

W.J. Turner, Simple Poetry

magic

W.J. Turner, Simple Poetry

Romance

W.J. Turner, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Voyagers

Where are they, that song and tale
Tell of? lands our childhood knew?
Sea-locked Faerylands that trail
Morning summits, dim with dew,
Crimson o'er a crimson sail.

Where in dreams we entered on
Wonders eyes have never seen:
Whither often we have gone,
Sailing a dream-brigantine
On from voyaging dawn to dawn.

Leons seeking lands of song;
Fabled fountains pouring spray;
Where our anchors dropped among
Corals of some tropic bay,
With its swarthy native throng.

Shoulder ax and arquebus! -
We may find it! - past yon range
Of sierras, vaporous,
Rich with gold and wild and strange
That lost region dear to us.

Yet, behold, although our zeal
Darien summits may subdue,
Our Balboa eyes reveal
But a vaster sea come...

Madison Julius Cawein

Voyagers

Where are they, that song and tale
Tell of? lands our childhood knew?
Sea-locked Faerylands that trail
Morning summits, dim with dew,
Crimson o'er a crimson sail.

Where in dreams we entered on
Wonders eyes have never seen:
Whither often we have gone,
Sailing a dream-brigantine
On from voyaging dawn to dawn.

Leons seeking lands of song;
Fabled fountains pouring spray;
Where our anchors dropped among
Corals of some tropic bay,
With its swarthy native throng.

Shoulder ax and arquebus!
We may find it! past yon range
Of sierras, vaporous,
Rich with gold and wild and strange
That lost region dear to us.

Yet, behold, although our zeal
Darien summits may subdue,
Our Balboa eyes reveal
But a vaster sea come to<...

Madison Julius Cawein

Pytheas

Gaul whose keel in far, dim ages ploughed wan widths of polar sea
Gray old sailor of Massilia, who hath woven wreath for thee?
Who amongst the worlds high singers ever breathed the tale sublime
Of the man who coasted England in the misty dawn of time?
Leaves of laurel, lights of music these and these have never shed
Glory on the name unheard of, lustre on the vanished head.
Lords of song, and these are many, never yet have raised the lay
For the white, wind-beaten seaman of a wild, forgotten day.
Harp of shining son of Godhead still is as a voice august;
But the man who first saw Britain sleeps beneath unnoticed dust.

From the fair, calm bays Hellenic, from the crescents and the bends,
Round the wall of crystal Athens, glowing in gold evening-ends,
Sailed abroad the grand,...

Henry Kendall

The Voyage

I.
We left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbor-mouth;
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

II.
Warm broke the breeze against the brow,
Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail:
The Ladys-head upon the prow
Caught the shrill salt, and sheerd the gale.
The broad seas swelld to meet the keel,
And swept behind: so quick the run,
We felt the good ship shake and reel,
We seemd to sail into the Sun!

III.
How oft we saw the Sun retire,
And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,
And sleep beneath his pillard light!
Ho...

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Tide.

Landward the tide setteth buoyantly breezily, -
    Landward the waves ripple sparkling and free, -
Ho, the proud ship, like a thing of life, easily,
    Gracefully sweeps o'er the white-crested sea!
In from the far-away lands she is steering now,
    Straight for her anchorage, fearless and free, -
Lo, as I gaze, how she seems to be nearing now,
    Sun-lighted shores, a still haven, and me!

Landward the tide setteth! - mark my proud argosy
    As the breeze flutters her pennons of snow,
Wafting from far the glad mariner's melody
    O'er the blue waters in rhythmical flow!
Tell me, oh, soul of mine, what is the freightage fair
    'Neath her white wings that she beareth to thee?
Treasures of golden ore, gems from Golconda's shore,
    Lo, she is brin...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

A Voyage

1909

Breathing the stale and stuffy air
Of office or consulting room,
Our thoughts will wander back to where
We heard the low Atlantic boom,

And, creaming underneath our screw,
We watched the swirling waters break,
Silver filagrees on blue
Spreading fan-wise in our wake.

Cribbed within the city's fold,
Fettered to our daily round,
We'll conjure up the haze of gold
Which ringed the wide horizon round.

And still we'll break the sordid day
By fleeting visions far and fair,
The silver shield of Vigo Bay,
The long brown cliff of Finisterre.

Where once the Roman galley sped,
Or Moorish corsair spread his sail,
By wooded shore, or sunlit head,
By barren hill or sea-washed vale

We took our way. But we can sw...

Arthur Conan Doyle