  The naked Bay its silver notes is telling Sweeter than flute or harp or singing bird, Beatings of rosy rhythm in winsome word Of lilting song are softly shoreward welling: Anear and far the ruddy waters swelling, In laughter-peals around the fair earth heard, Thrill swift the home-bound keels so long unstirred— The kiss of day the weary wings compelling. Beware the elfin bugles sounding clear As glows morn's pallid ash to crimson flame And makes a bloody dazzle of the waves! Ere burn the embers in the west all blear, The deep shall thunder its awful chant of fame O'er noble hearts gone down to wandering graves. |
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