Category: Poetry
How rich is life on old Cape Cod Where autumn smiles in golden rod, And marshes flame, though not with fire - A region blest of heart’s desire. In vain we’d roam the Seven Seas There are no quainter shores than these.
How rich is life on old Cape Cod Where autumn smiles in golden rod, And marshes flame, though not with fire - A region blest of heart’s desire. In vain we’d roam the Seven Seas...
2. Part 2On decks awash how they held their own When faced by the knives of a cursing crew. And they spoke of shoals and of ledges lone Which only the sea birds knew.
3. Part 3Beyond the dunes what monstrous shapes are these Like Titans rearing out of the abyss To menace heaven? Terrible they loom Upheaving with their shoulders till the sky Is warped...
4. Part 4Eel grass rolled by the waves at play In fresh cut swaths like the new mown hay; Lettuce that glints with a fragile sheen: And Irish moss with its mottled green And cream and pu...
5. Part 5When but a child my eyes would oft forsake The blurring page, and through the window seek Like an escaping bird, the wonderland Of dreams, till my instructor, grave, enquired “W...
6. Part 6One need not dwell alone beside the sea, There are no bars To sunder Him who walked on Galilee Or blur the vision of the loftiest stars No solitary being, set apart, Is he who f...