Still Sounds the Buoy from the Sea

When I lived in Quincy during college I had heard (from professors) about Star Island. When I decided to go work there (and got the job!) I discovered that a poet from Quincy had spent time on Star Island. Going through a box of old notes, cards and letters today I rediscoverd a poem.

Star Island Reverie

At night the candles' shadow-crosses
Light the white washed ceiling.
Soft sounds the buoy from the sea.
White is the light for mariner's guide.
Sweet is the chanting of voices
Lifting in song the hope of tomorrow.

When the sun of morning flashes on the sea,
I stand alone within the chapel walls.
Gone are the candles that hung.
Mute are the voices that sung.
Still sounds the buoy from the sea.


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