Explore "Dock Drama" by Edwina Stanton Babcock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Limp in his chair atilt against a shack / An old man broods o'er newspaper and smoke / Where shingle-quilted pent roofs back to back / Checker from grey of ash to black of coke; / Dim squares of window, opal-paned, baroque, / Waver on water, pearling it to deep / Weedwafted droop of shifting shadow cloak / Where swirls of silver imagery sweep. / Slow ribboning to the surface serpent rings / Of mast reflections quiver into grey / Upon the incoming tide that softly brings / One high-peaked sail along the buoyant way / Where questing water tentatively steals / Fingering mossy spiles and undulant keels.
The steam boat dock's a stage where nightly speak / The actors in some ribald skit of Trade / Here serried barrels screen a jester's freak / And piles of trunks made pirate ambuscade. / Red lanterns slackly swung and lights of jade / Accent accordions' pert canzonette; / Or furry trawls along the string piece laid / Trip oil-skinned fisherman's hulking silhouette. / A massive barge like enigmatic tomb / Toward a sea-scented land of dark drifts down; / Dim on the East the sandy headlands loom / Till dawn rings up green trees and steepled town. / Then like applause in broken scattering sound / The motor boats speed to the clamming ground.