AT ALGECIRAS – A MEDITATON UPON DEATH
 
 THE heron-billed pale cattle-birds
 That feed on some foul parasite
 Of the Moroccan flocks and herds
 Cross the narrow Straits to light
 In the rich midnight of the garden trees
 Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.
 Often at evening when a boy
 Would I carry to a friend –
 Hoping more substantial joy
 Did an older mind commend –
 Not such as are in Newton's metaphor,
 But actual shells of Rosses' level shore.
 Greater glory in the Sun,
 An evening chill upon the air,
 Bid imagination run
 Much on the Great Questioner;
 What He can question, what if questioned I
 Can with a fitting confidence reply.