Explore "The Surf Along the Shore" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ye children of the mountain, sing of your craggy peaks, / Your valleys forest laden, your cliffs where Echo speaks; / And ye, who by the prairies your childhood's joys have seen, / Sing of your waving grasses, your velvet miles of green: / But when my memory wanders down to the dear old home / I hear, amid my dreaming, the seething of the foam, / The wet wind through the pine trees, the sobbing crash and roar, / The mighty surge and thunder of the surf along the shore.
I see upon the sand-dunes the beach-grass sway and swing, / I see the whirling sea-birds sweep by on graceful wing, / I see the silver breakers leap high on shoal and bar, / And hear the bell-buoy tolling his lonely note afar. / The green salt-meadows fling me their salty, sweet perfume, / I hear, through miles of dimness, the watchful fog-horn boom; / Once more, beneath the blackness of night's great roof-tree high, / The wild geese chant their marches athwart the arching sky.