A Maritime Idyl

The purple sunset swerved athwart

     The embers of coming night;

The sea gods moaned as if in pain –

“Mark one, mark two!” They cried in vain

     And watched it slowly sink from sight.

The boisterous breezes laughed in glee,

And piped the throbbing, troubled sea.

Behold the east! The rhythmic romp

     Of monsters down the glassy track

The ocean’s melody brings back

With due acclaim, and pungent pomp

To wake the laughing nymphs below,

Where clinging tendrils ebb and flow,

     And then – “land ho!”

(Dear reader, we’re not daffy hit.

‘Tis magazine verse we have writ.)

Nov. 9, 1910