Off Fort Hamilton In Summer

Embrasured guns, like wearied hounds, all sleeping, Their muzzles resting on the cool, green turf; Along the Fort their peaceful watch now keeping Above the mimic battle of the surf.

And you, dear one, now that my suit is ended-- Let passion slumber in your cool dark eyes; The wiles by which your heart was well defended Embrasured there look love on summer skies.