The Shore

by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts English

From “Ariadne” HUNG like a rich pomegranate o’er the sea   The ripened moon; along the trancèd sand The feather-shadowed ferns drooped dreamfully; The solitude’s evading harmony   Mingled remotely over sea and land; A light wind woke and whispered warily,   And myriad ripples tinkled on the strand.

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