Poem by Clinton Scollard

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!

1. Etching at Night
2. The Isle of Doom
3. Saint Sepulchre's beside the Sea
4. The Lilac Sea
5. At Dingle

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