AUTUMN BY THE SEA

Still on the sand and shingle gleams the sun;

Still an unclouded heaven arches o'er;

And still the languid billows roll and run

Down all the lengths of shore.

Still there are hints of summer in the air,

A sense of restfulness, of rapt repose;

And from remote sea gardens, lush and fair,

Rich attars like the rose.

Still a soft haze of delicate hyacinth

Broods o'er the sky-line, floating faint and far;

Still on the edge of night's vast labyrinth

Shines the clear vesper-star.

Soon, all too soon, the spindrift and the spume,

The legions of the surge that fleetly form;

The gray, illimitable wastes of gloom —

The thunderous caves of storm!