With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember,
Some crimson poppy of a late delight
Atoning in its splendor for the flight
Of summer blooms and joysÂ
This is September.
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There’s a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman,
And the deeps beyond the bar are moaning with evil presageOf a storm that will leap from its lair in that dour north-eastern sky.Slowly the pale mists rise, like ghosts of the sea, in the offing,Creeping all wan and chilly by headland and sunken reef,And a wind is wailing and keening like a lost thing…
Far in the mellow western sky,
A beacon on the coast of night,Shines out a calm, white evening star;But your deep eyes, my ‘longshore lass,Are brighter, clearer far.The glory of the sunset pastStill gleams upon the water there,But all its splendor cannot matchThe wind-blown brightness of your hair;Not any sea-maid’s floating locksOf gold are half so fair.The waves are whispering to…
In a lone valley fair and far,
I know a spot to lag and dreamThrough damask morns and noons agleam;For feet fall lightly on the fernAnd twilight is a wondrous thing,When the winds blow from some far bourneBeyond the hill rims westering;There echoes ring as if a throngOf fairies hid from mortal eyesSent laughter back in spirit guiseAnd song as the pure…
There’s a piping wind from a sunrise shore
There’s a joyous voice in the lapsing tideThat calls enticingly;The mist of dawn has taken flightTo the dim horizon’s bound,And with wide sails set and eager heartsWe’re off to the fishing ground.Ho, comrades mine, how that brave wind singsLike a great sea-harp afar!We whistle its wild notes back to itAs we cross the harbor bar.Behind…
He rides away with sword and spur,
With gallant glance and smile for herUpon the dim-lit balcony.Her kiss upon his lips is warm,Upon his breast he wears her rose,From her fond arms to stress and stormOf many a bannered field he goes.He dreams of danger, glory, strife,His voice is blithe, his hand is strong,He rides perchance to death from lifeAnd leaves his…
We told her that her far off shore was bleak and dour to view,
She only sighed in answer, ‘It is even as ye say,But oh, the ragged splendor when the sun bursts through the gray!’We brought her dew-wet roses from our fairest summer bowers,We bade her drink their fragrance, we heaped her lap with flowers;She only said, with eyes that yearned, ‘Oh, if ye might have broughtThe pale,…