BY ocean's pallid strand Sat I, tormented in spirit and lonely. The sun sank lower and lower, and threw Red glowing streaks upon the water, And the snowy, spreading billows, By the flood hard-press'd, Foam'd and roar'd still nearer and nearer -- A wonderful sound, a whisp'ring and piping, A laughing and murmuring, sighing and rushing, Between times a lullaby-home-sounding singing, -- Methinks I hear some olden tradition, Primeval, favourite legend, Which I erst as a stripling Learnt from the neighbours' children, When we, on the summer evenings, On the house-door's steps all cower'd Cosily for quiet talking, With our little hearts all attentive, And our eyes all wisely curious; -- Whilst the bigger maidens, Close by their fragrant flowerpots Sat at the opposite window Rosy their faces, Smiling, illumed by the moon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SHE HEARS THE STORM by THOMAS HARDY A SUN-DAY HYMN [OR LAMENT] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES GOD EVERYWHERE by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. DIET by JOHN ARMSTRONG CHARACTERS: MARY HOLLAND ENFIELD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |