Classic Poem

2. Twilight.
On the yellow shore of ocean
Burthened with thought, I was sitting, and lonely.
The sun sank lower and lower, and threw
Crimsoning paths athwart the waters;
And the white and unending waves,
Urged by the driving tide,
Foamed and resounded nearer and nearer.
A marvellous noise as of whisper and whistle,
Of laughter and murmurs, sighing and sobbing,
And through it all pierced a sound as of song,
A gentle homely song, sung by a cradle.
Methought that I heard distant echoes
Of lovely old-world stories,
Which, in days of childhood,
From neighbours' children I learnt;
Which in the summer evenings
We huddled together to tell,
On the stone steps of the houses,
With tiny hearts aglow to listen,
Eyes that were keen with wonder —
And meanwhile at the windows
Opposite to us were sitting,
Behind the scented flower-pots,
The grown-up girls of the village,
Faces like roses,
Smiling bright in the moonlight.