What moves at Cardiff, how a man At Newport ends the day as he began, At Weston what adventure may befall, What Bristol dreams, or if she dream at all, Upon the pier, with step sedate, I meditate -- Poor souls! whose God is Mammon -- Meanwhile, from Ocean's gate, Keen for the foaming spate, The true God rushes in the salmon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARCHITECT (2) by KAREN SWENSON AN ANCIENT TO ANCIENTS by THOMAS HARDY THE MAD MAID'S SONG by ROBERT HERRICK TO MY MOTHER by EDGAR ALLAN POE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS by ALFRED TENNYSON THE ENTHUSIAST, OR, THE LOVER OF NATURE by JOSEPH WARTON |