17 MAY 1902, Page 13

BRET HARTE'S POEM, " ST. THOMAS."

[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]

SIR,—The holocaust in the Antilles and Bret Harte's death last week will, I think, bring strikingly to the memories of some of us his short poem, " St. Thomas," of which I may perhaps be permitted to quote the first and last lines Very fair and full of promise Lay the island of St. Thomas, Ocean o'er its reefs and bars Hid its elemental scars, Groves of cocoanut and guava Grew above its fields of lava,— So the Gem of the Antilles.

• ..... • Not a flagstaff or a sentry, Not a wharf or port of entry, Only—to cut matters shorter- ,Tust a patch of muddy water In the open ocean lying, And a gull above it flying."