Were the burned sand of AEaea, Circe's, -- stranger than yours, Wadmalah? Myrtles squat Beastlike, each crouching inland, Sand heaped like a spell on their faces. Is Samos more white Than the beaches of Kiawah? Are the mighty spirits of Rhodes more terribly splendid Than ghosts of Indian warriors? Their spears fiercer Than points of palmetto and yucca Crossed like a sword dance On Edisto? Their towers more arrogant Than the belfries of thick white bell-flowers Carved in the air? Is Marathon richlier echoed With voices of youthful heroes Than the swamps of Santee? When the bloom runs over the moss In a soft gray glory of tarnished silver, of shadowy pearl, Riders furrow the night. Marion, Marion's men, Pass in a voiceless tumult, Pass like the smoke from a torch, With dark unextinguished eyes. These are the coasts, the haunted coasts and the islands Of Carolina. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ON IMAGINATION by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES THE UNKNOWN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT by RICHARD BARNFIELD AFTER THEATER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |