Who has not walked upon the shore, And who does not the morning know, The day the angry gale is o'er, The hour the wind has ceased to blow? The horses of the strong southwest Are pastured round his tropic tent, Careless how long the ocean's breast Sob on and sigh for passion spent. The frightened birds, that fled inland To house in rock and tower and tree, Are gathering on the peaceful strand, To tempt again the sunny sea; Whereon the timid ships steal out And laugh to find their foe asleep, That lately scattered them about, And drave them to the fold like sheep. The snow-white clouds he northward chased Break into phalanx, line, and band: All one way to the south they haste, The south, their pleasant fatherland. From distant hills their shadows creep, Arrive in turn and mount the lea, And flit across the downs, and leap Sheer off the cliff upon the sea; And sail and sail far out of sight. But still I watch their fleecy trains, That piling all the south with light, Dapple in France the fertile plains. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHY I WRITE NOT OF LOVE by BEN JONSON FOR 'THE WINE OF CIRCE' (BY EDWARD BURNE JONES) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BALLAD OF CHICKAMAUGA [SEPTEMBER 19-20, 1863] by JAMES MAURICE THOMPSON RIDE NOT TOO FAST WITH BEAUTY by ELSIE TWINING ABBOTT KNOW THYSELF by WILLIAM ARBUTHNOT EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 24. COMPLIANCE IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES TO BARON DE STONNE WITH AIKIN'S ESSAYS ON SONG-WRITING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |