In summer-time it was a paradise Of mountain, frith, and bay, and shining sand; Our outward rowers sang towards the land, Follow'd by waving hands and happy cries: By the full flood the groups no longer roam; And when, at ebb, the glistening beach grows wide, No barefoot children race into the foam, But passive jellies wait the turn of tide. Like some forsaken lover, lingering there, The boatman stands; the maidens trip no more With loosen'd locks; far from the billows' roar The Mauds and Maries knot their tresses fair, Where not a foam-flake from th' enamour'd shore Comes down the sea-wind on the golden hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THRENODY by RALPH WALDO EMERSON NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT by EUGENE FIELD THE PALACE OF ART by ALFRED TENNYSON QUATRAIN: FAME by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN AN OLD CEMETERY by LILLAH A. ASHLEY A LOVE-MESSAGE by LILLIAN CORBETT BARNES |