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a web of many textures

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Nahant! bold battler of the mighty sea,
My harp would sound one note to swell thy glory,
How much of health and beauty dwells in thee,
Thou hard, solidified old promontory!
I rest me here, and feel thy breezes free
Filling my ears with their enchanting story;
I hear the sea around me ceaselessly
Curling about thy base its big waves hoary.
O, beautiful! I cry, delightedly,
Here would I end my life so transitory,
Climbing the rocks in plenitude of glee,
Or catching mackerel in a little dory.
Great is Nahant, by Neptune loved and Flora, —
Esteemed by all, beside, whose bent is piscatory