The Roanoke Colony. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

On an island green, a seed was sown,
By English hands, a new home known.
Roanoke's shore, a hopeful start,
A dream of life, a brand new chart.

First came men, a soldier's might,
But days were hard, and futures slight.
They left the shore, their quest undone,
Beneath the setting English sun.

Then others came, with women, child,
A hopeful band, so meek and mild.
To Chesapeake they wished to roam,
But found on Roanoke, their lonely home.

Their leader sailed, for ships and bread,
Three long years, with naught but dread.
He came back home, to silence deep,
No voices sang, no secrets to keep.

Just trees and wind, and empty space,
No smiling friend, no welcoming face.
A wooden post, with words etched slow,
'CROATOAN, ' the winds did blow.

Did they all leave? Where did they flee?
To join the tribes, wild and free?
Or did sickness creep, or hunger bite?
Or storms that raged throughout the night?

A mystery hangs, a whispered tale,
Of vanished lives, beyond the veil.
Roanoke's past, a question posed,
A legend lost, forever closed.