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larryhammerFor Poetry Monday:
A Morning Scene, Sarah Mayo
Amid the rosy fog stole in and out
The little boat; the rower dipped his oar,
Gleaming with liquid gold; and all about
The red-sailed ships went swimming from the shore.
Against the canvas, moving to and fro,
The dark forms of the fishermen were seen;
Around the prow long wreaths of golden glow
Rippled and faded ’mid the wavy green.
The sea-gulls wheeled around the rocky cape,
And skimmed their long wings lightly o’er the flood;
The fog rose up in many a spectral shape,
And crept away in silence o’er the wood.
The sea, from silvery white to deepest blue,
Changed ’neath the changing colors of the sky;
The distant lighthouse broke upon the view,
And the long land-point spread before the eye.
Clear as a mirror lay the rock-bound cove;
Far off, one blasted pine against the sky
Lifted its scraggy form; the crow above
Flapped his black wings, and wound his long shrill cry.
I paced the beach like some sleep-waking child,
Wrapped in a dream of beauty and of awe;
Were they ideal visions that beguiled?
Was it my eye, or but my soul that saw?
Sarah Edgarton Mayo (1819-1848) was a Massachusetts-born writer, editor, and Unitarian hymnist.
---L.
Subject quote from The Demon-Ship, Thomas Hood.
A Morning Scene, Sarah Mayo
Amid the rosy fog stole in and out
The little boat; the rower dipped his oar,
Gleaming with liquid gold; and all about
The red-sailed ships went swimming from the shore.
Against the canvas, moving to and fro,
The dark forms of the fishermen were seen;
Around the prow long wreaths of golden glow
Rippled and faded ’mid the wavy green.
The sea-gulls wheeled around the rocky cape,
And skimmed their long wings lightly o’er the flood;
The fog rose up in many a spectral shape,
And crept away in silence o’er the wood.
The sea, from silvery white to deepest blue,
Changed ’neath the changing colors of the sky;
The distant lighthouse broke upon the view,
And the long land-point spread before the eye.
Clear as a mirror lay the rock-bound cove;
Far off, one blasted pine against the sky
Lifted its scraggy form; the crow above
Flapped his black wings, and wound his long shrill cry.
I paced the beach like some sleep-waking child,
Wrapped in a dream of beauty and of awe;
Were they ideal visions that beguiled?
Was it my eye, or but my soul that saw?
Sarah Edgarton Mayo (1819-1848) was a Massachusetts-born writer, editor, and Unitarian hymnist.
---L.
Subject quote from The Demon-Ship, Thomas Hood.