THE MARBLE-STREETED TOWN

I reach the marble-streeted town,

Whose “Sound” outbreathes its air

Of sharp sea-salts;

I see the movement up and down

As when she was there.

Ships of all countries come and go,

The bandsmen boom in the sun

A throbbing waltz;

The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe

As when she was one.

I move away as the music rolls:

The place seems not to mind

That she — of old

The brightest of its native souls -

Left it behind!

Over this green aforedays she

On light treads went and came,

Yea, times untold;

Yet none here knows her history -

Has heard her name.