Our driftwood fire burns drowsily, The fog hangs low afar, A thousand sea-birds fearlessly Hover above the bar; Our boat is drawn far up on the strand, Beyond the tide's long reach; Like a fringe to the dark green winter land, Shines the silvery Florida beach. Behind, the broad pine barrens lie Without a path or trail, Before, the ocean meets the sky Without a rock or sail. We call across to Africa, As a poet called to Spain: A murmur of "Antony! Antony!" The waves bring back in refrain. Far to the south the beach shines on, Dotted with giant shells; Coral sprays from the white reef won, Radiate spiny cells; Glass-like creatures that ride the waves, With azure sail and oar, And wide-mouthed things from the deep sea caves That melt away on the shore. Wild ducks gaze as we pass along: They have not learned to fear; The mocking-bird keeps on his song In the low palmetto near; The sluggish stream from the everglade Shows the alligator's track, And the sea is broken in light and shade With the heave of the dolphin's back. The Spanish light-house stands in haze: The keeper trims his light; No sail he sees through the long, long days, No sail through the still, still night; But ships that pass far out at sea, Along the warm Gulf Stream, From Cuba and tropic Carribee, Keep watch for his distant gleam. Alone, alone we wander on, In the southern winter day. Through the dreamy veil the fog has spun The world seems far away; The tide comes in -- the birds fly low, As if to catch our speech. Ah, Destiny! why must we ever go Away from the Florida beach? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: FOX TROT by EDITH SITWELL LOVE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS NOT OURS THE VOWS by BERNARD BARTON HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 8. BRENNBAUM by EZRA POUND THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL |