 | City Poems |  |
“Down the long river, past the fortressed rock
To that fair island in the sparkling sea,
Across whose face through all the scented hours
Change melts in finer change, from clear green light
To purple thunder-gloom. She's courted too—
For when she smiles the proud and dimpled sea
Fawns on her fringe of flowers; and when she frowns,
Gone are his flickering waves and miles of light,
Grey is his only wear.”
To that fair island in the sparkling sea,
Across whose face through all the scented hours
Change melts in finer change, from clear green light
To purple thunder-gloom. She's courted too—
For when she smiles the proud and dimpled sea
Fawns on her fringe of flowers; and when she frowns,
Gone are his flickering waves and miles of light,
Grey is his only wear.”
“And when return?”
“On Saturday.”
135
“I'll look for flowers. Could not
You come on Friday?”
You come on Friday?”
“Wherefore do you ask?”
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