In summer-time it was a paradise Of mountain, frith, and bay, and shining sand; Our outward rowers sang towards the land, Follow'd by waving hands and happy cries: By the full flood the groups no longer roam; And when, at ebb, the glistening beach grows wide, No barefoot children race into the foam, But passive jellies wait the turn of tide. Like some forsaken lover, lingering there, The boatman stands; the maidens trip no more With loosen'd locks; far from the billows' roar The Mauds and Maries knot their tresses fair, Where not a foam-flake from th' enamour'd shore Comes down the sea-wind on the golden hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PASSING OF THE EX-SLAVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY (2) by JOHN BYROM CREDO by WILLIAM ARTHUR DUNKERLEY HIS CONTENT IN THE COUNTRY by ROBERT HERRICK UNTO US A SON IS GIVEN by ALICE MEYNELL COMPLAINS OF THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE; AN IDYLLIUM by BION A POTION by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN BY LORD KNOWLES: SONG 2 by THOMAS CAMPION AN ELEGY ON THE LADY PEN; SENT TO MY MISTRESS OUT OF FRANCE by THOMAS CAREW |