by Frank Foy
A sabbath hush pervades the summer day,
As seated here beside the shining sands,
I gaze on once again the arid lands,
That weed-besprinkled westward stretch away;
The waves that wash the beach about me lay
Smooth mirrors in their track, and vast expands
The stream's majestic breast, to where upstands
Fair Venice in her groves beside her bay.
And so serenely on the sands of gold
I lie and listen to the beat of wave
And boom of wind, and watch the river-gleams;
Then seas of slumber are about me rolled,
And as within their waters deep I lave,
The scene before me fades and floats away in dreams.
Robin's Nest 