2 ... 2 ...
The Pleasure Boat
The sun-light falling on her sheet,
It glitters like the drift,
Sparkling, in scorn of summer's heat,
High up some mountain rift.
The winds are fresh-she's driving fast.
Upon the bending tide,
The crinkling sail, and crinkling mast,
Go with her side by side.
0 comments:
Post a Comment