Three lines of breakers, swift and high, Shaped out of yellow cloud, Are curving in the western sky, But I hear no surf-beat loud. I see the misty foam they toss Pinked by the setting sun, That long cloud stretching bright across, Is the beach they break upon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN SPRING BLIZZARD by JAMES GALVIN TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS AND SO, I THINK DIOGENES by AMY LOWELL ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA |