The slow heave of the sleeping sea With pulse-like motion swells and falls, And drowsily a stray gull calls The very wail of melancholy; All day the moveless mist has slept On the same bosom east winds swept: No breath of change in the grey mist, Save just a dream of amethyst. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BANJO SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR DEATH IN THE KITCHEN by THOMAS HOOD SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914 by ALICE MEYNELL TO THE LADYBIRD by MOTHER GOOSE OUR MASTER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE POOR FARMER'S OFFERING by APOLLONIDES BACCHUS AND THE FROGS by ARISTOPHANES |