Explore "A Woman's Love Letters" by Sophia Margaretta Hensley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dear, I am lonely, for the bay is still / As any hill-girt lake; the long brown beach / Lies bare and wet. As far as eye can reach / There is no motion. Even on the hill / Where the breeze loves to wander I can see / No stir of leaves, nor any waving tree.
There is a great red cliff that fronts my view / A bare, unsightly thing; it angers me / With its unswerving-grim monotony. / The mackerel weir, with branching boughs askew / Stands like a fire-swept forest, while the sea / Laps it, with soothing sighs, continually.