 | Poems |  |
34
A RETROSPECT.
Now what this pebbly strip of Kentish coastAnd the lone sweep of this blue curling bay
Has waked my fancy to I cannot say,
That most is busy when I idle most,
But backward through the years she seems to post;
She seems in running to devour the way,
And I, dull laggard, follow as I may,
Till at the last she stops: And lo! a host
Of whitening sails, far as the eye can reach,
Advancing from the sky-line more and more!
‘These are the men that bring your Shakespeare speech!’
I look again, and, closer than before,
Lo! Hengist's galley cabled to the beach,
And Horsa's sailors pulling for the shore.
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