POETRY.
AT THE SEA-SIDE.
FAR from this land of summer weather To where two children roam together In thought I wander; Meseems by Cambria's wave-beat shore, Mingling their voices with its roar (Millis is five and Paul is four), I see them yonder.
Here soft, scent-laden breezes blow, While there they breast, with cheeks aglow, Old blustering Boreas.
With streaming hair they dance along, Gay listeners to his stormy song, Their isle-bred English hearts are strong And think it glorious !
Lo ! Phillis finds an aged boat Sand-sunk, engirt with wave-worn moat, Just to her liking.
She boards the hulk with sailor glee, She sails in thought far out to sea, Beneath she feels her ship roll free, The little -Viking !
With fatling legs, like dapper elf, Paul clambers up a sandy shelf, And calls the other.
But 'tis her dolly's airing time, So for its sake sbe will not climb, But sets her baby up sublime Beside her brother.
Soon, home-returned, the twain would cope With an old coastguard telescope ; One breathless minute Does eager Phillis first apply Each round blue wonder-waiting eye, Intent with this or that to spy The world within it !
Alas for human hopes of bliss 1 The senseless tube those soft cheeks kiss With vain endeavour ; For nothing can she see at all But just a stupid "big white ball," Which, much like eye of Cyclops tall, Confronts her ever.
Then Paul inspects, and shouts with glee, " I spy the rooks, the sand, the sea!" From her erewhile hid.
Dismayed poor Phillis cries : " That shows My sight was hindered by my nose! "- O Paul! I fear you did not close Your other eyelid 1 Thus here, methinks, my outward gaze This human round of things surveys With staid precision ; Yet shall the while my other eye Of wandering Fancy there descry, Bright with no hues of earth or sky, A fairy vision !
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