 | Poems |  |
279
FORENOON
Soft as the whisper shut within a shell,The far sea rustles white along the sand,
A tiny breeze, blown wanton from the land,
Teases it into dimples visible;
A dream of blue, the Fife hills sink and swell;
The large light quivers, and from strand to strand
A vast content seems breathing to expand;
And the deep heaven smiles down a sleepy spell.
Dark bathers bob; the girders of the pier
Stand softened forth against the quiet blue;
Dogs bark; the wading children take their pleasure;
A horse comes charging round, and I can hear
The gallop's wild waltz-rhythm, falling thro',
Change to the trot's deliberate polka-measure.
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