Classic Poem

We sat in the fishing pavilion,
The sea before our eyes;
And soon the mists of evening
Slowly began to rise.

The lights within the lighthouse
Were lighted one by one;
And we saw far off in the distance
One ship in the setting sun.

We spoke of storm and shipwreck,
Of the wild life sailors led,
Hovering 'twixt sky and water,
And between mirth and dread.

And we talked of distant regions,
Of South and of North we spoke,
Of strange, outlandish customs,
And strange, outlandish folk.

By the Ganges there's lustre and perfume;
There blossomed trees do tower;
And beautiful, placid people
Kneel to the lotus-flower.

In Lapland the people are filthy,
Flat-headed, and wide-mouthed, and small;
They cower round fires and bake themselves
Fishes, and jabber and squall.

The girls intently listened.
Soon no one spoke. The barque
Could be descried no longer.
All the wide world was dark.