Beyond the hedge the sea doth glint. Never shell shone so well. One longs to go a-fishing in't. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. Sweet is the sea beyond the hedge, soft and bland as baby's hand. One longs to kiss its crinkled edge. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. 'Tis with the breeze's fingers clever, all ashine with needles fine, that hedge and sea are sewn together. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. Upon the hedge the waves display their fluttering bits of foamy spray. White sails are flashing o'er the bay. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. The hedge, it is an ocean deep where golden scarab beetles sleep. Black whales are ungainlier far. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. Soft as a tear upon the cheek the sea's a tear upon the hedge that softly seeks the water's edge. But one has no desire to weep. "A lad has fallen in the wave." "Dead in the sea! A goodly grave!" One cannot weep his fate to-day. The skies are gay, 'tis merry May. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A PACIFIST FRIEND by GEORGE SANTAYANA REALITY REQUIRES by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA PARADISE by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER HOW VIOLETS CAME BLUE by ROBERT HERRICK THE HOUSEKEEPER by CHARLES LAMB |