 | The complete poems of S. Weir Mitchell |  |
377
JEKYL ISLAND
EBB-TIDE
Fading light on a lonely beach,
A slow out-creeping tide
That leaves to me on sea-etched sands
The ocean's cryptic speech.
A slow out-creeping tide
That leaves to me on sea-etched sands
The ocean's cryptic speech.
Adown the ever broadening strand
Moon-witched waters steal,
And over the dunes a wild wind swoops
And frets the silted sand.
Moon-witched waters steal,
And over the dunes a wild wind swoops
And frets the silted sand.
| The complete poems of S. Weir Mitchell | |