Tropical Beach
The month of spider-lilies; and the white
Antennae quiver in the sunlit air.
In drifting clouds the pale moths hover where
No sweets were spread before for their delight.
Over the sallow dunes and out of sight
The lilies crowd together as none would dare
Alone to challenge notice with all so fair,
Alone to shine out boldly with all so bright.
Out from the lilies spreads a gleaming sea
Where the sun dazzles, till the tired eyes yearn
For blackbirds flying, for a stark bold tree.
Such is the morning, such the afternoon,
And with the dusk, still must the eye discern
Ghosts of a million spiders in the moon.
Antennae quiver in the sunlit air.
In drifting clouds the pale moths hover where
No sweets were spread before for their delight.
Over the sallow dunes and out of sight
The lilies crowd together as none would dare
Alone to challenge notice with all so fair,
Alone to shine out boldly with all so bright.
Out from the lilies spreads a gleaming sea
Where the sun dazzles, till the tired eyes yearn
For blackbirds flying, for a stark bold tree.
Such is the morning, such the afternoon,
And with the dusk, still must the eye discern
Ghosts of a million spiders in the moon.
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