Autumn By The Sea

Still on the sand and shingle gleams the sun; Still an unclouded heaven arches o'er; And still the languid billows roll and run Down all the lengths of shore.

Still there are hints of summer in the air, A sense of restfulness, of rapt repose; And from remote sea gardens, lush and fair, Rich attars like the rose.

Still a soft haze of delicate hyacinth Broods o'er the sky-line, floating faint and far; Still on the edge of night's vast labyrinth Shines the clear vesper-star.

Soon, all too soon, the spindrift and the spume, The legions of the surge that fleetly form; The gray, illimitable wastes of gloom-- The thunderous caves of storm!