THE gulls on Monhegan Talk loudly in their tongue; The white gulls are old ones, The brown gulls are young. Above gray wharves they cluster, Clamor and wheel and cry For food cast on the waters Under the broad sea sky. . . . The gulls at Monhegan Remain, while folk ashore Go, and come back, and some time Turn islandward no more; No more to hear the ancient voice Of waves, nor watch the light Twinkle its warning, when the birds Are nested for the night. The gulls off Monhegan Are populous and shrill; They sweep over Burnthead, But shun the graveyard hill, And of the sky and circling sea They seem a living part . . . Out of a dream their cries are borne To my remembering heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 7 by EZRA POUND EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 3. GENOA by ALBERTA BANCROFT SANCHO SANCHEZ by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT VOICES OF THE NIGHT by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY EPITAPH ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD by JOHN CLEVELAND LINES ON A FRIEND WHO DIED OF A FRENZY FEVER ... CALUMINOUS REPORTS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |