The waves’ advancing armies break and fall
In creamy lather, whipped by angry squall,
And pound the shingle and the crouching rocks
With oft-repeated and relentless shocks.
The billows roar and charge with gathering speed,
Throwing up spray and tattered shreds on weed
That drape the railings like some sea-crone’s shawl
And wave long banners brown; and smooth wet stones
Are flung across the roadway. ‘Neath the wall
Where children built their castles out of sand,
Are heaped the gleanings of the ocean’s hand.
And in the surf that boils with froth and foam
Are tossed the planks of many a sailor’s home,
Now sunk, or cast on reef to bleach like bones.