Tide be runnin' the great world over: 'Twas only last June month I mind that we Was thinkin' the toss and the call in the breast of the lover So everlastin' as the sea. Heer's the same little fishes that sputter and swim, Wi' the moon's old glim on the grey, wet sand; An' him no more to me nor me to him Than the wind goin' over my hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BREST LEFT BEHIND by JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR LEINSTER by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG by ALEXANDER POPE LONDON'S SUMMER MORNING by MARY DARBY ROBINSON TO A SNOWFLAKE by FRANCIS THOMPSON FALLING STARS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |