Explore "At Eventide" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The tired breezes are tucked to rest / In the cloud-beds far away; / The waves are pressed to the placid breast / Of the dreaming, gleaming bay; / The shore line swims in a hazy heat, / Asleep in the sea and sky, / And the muffled beat where the breakers meet / Is a soft, sweet lullaby.
The pine-clad hill has a crimson crown / Of glittering sunset glows; / The roofs of brown in the distant town / Are bathed in a blush of rose; / The radiant ripples shine and shift / In shimmering shreds of gold; / The seaweeds lift and drowse and drift, / And the jellies fill and fold.
The great sun sinks, and the gray fog heaps / His cloak on the silent sea; / The night-wind creeps where the ocean sleeps, / And the wavelets wake in glee; / Across the bay, like a silver star, / There twinkles the harbor-light, / And faint and far from the outer bar / The sea-birds call "Good-night. "