|
|
The Sands Are Alive With Sunshine
By William Ernest Henley
The sands are alive with sunshine,
The bathers lounge and throng,
And out in the bay a bugle
Is lilting a gallant song.
The clouds go racing eastward,
The blithe wind cannot rest,
And a shard on the shingle flashes
Like the shining soul of a jest;
While children romp in the surges,
And sweethearts wander free,
And the Firth as with laughter dimples . . .
I would it were deep over me!
1875
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 207 times.
|
|
