Glints of Nahant

BEYOND the clatter of the town,
The surf-beat on the level strand,
The beds of sea-weed, dead and brown,
The ripple-etchings on the sand;
The wee sandpipers, as they fled
Like shadows down the sandy waste,
Pursuing every wave that fled,
And fleeing every wave that chased ;
The isle, from whose lone cottage soon
The beacon light should flash aslant
Across the foam; the pale day-moon ;
The purple headlands resonant ;
The twilight, flecked with fading ships ;
The passionate sea, that wooed the shore,
And kissed, with white and quivering lips,
Her garment’s hem but could no more;
The night, with breaths of vague perfume,
And breezes wandering fitfully ;
And ever, through the tremulous gloom,
The rhythmic thunder of the sea !
Charles F. Lummis.