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176
BEACHY HEAD.
A crowd of butterflies that float
And flap and wheel in glancing light;
And far away, but clear in sight
The passage of a white-winged boat;
And flap and wheel in glancing light;
And far away, but clear in sight
The passage of a white-winged boat;
Great daisy-suns that learn by rote
The measure of their master's flight,
And fold their disks away at night,
To hoard their borrowed gold, and gloat.
The measure of their master's flight,
And fold their disks away at night,
To hoard their borrowed gold, and gloat.
177
White hands that smell of torn wild thyme,
Dear hands that lightly lingering press,
What sea-cliff sounds made up your chime,
Dear hands that lightly lingering press,
What sea-cliff sounds made up your chime,
What flashing lights your soft caress,
When trembling rapture faltered ‘Yes!’
And all around us rang with rhyme?
When trembling rapture faltered ‘Yes!’
And all around us rang with rhyme?
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