Kennack Sands
On Kennack Sands the sun
Shines, and the fresh wind blows,
Moulding pale banks anew,
Where the sea—holly grows.
Waters softly blue
And exquisitely clear
Meet the o’er—arching sky;
O’er them the breezes run.
There may’st thou idly lie,
And still find new delights,
Watching the gulls’ white flights
Above that lonely place;
Listen, nor ever hear
A single human sound
To spoil the free, profound,
Aerial quietness.
But when thou’rt gone, the night
On Kennack comes; and soon,
Lovely beyond dreams,
Arises the round moon;
In whose trembling light
The rough splendour gleams
Of the crested sea.
Ah, could’st thou there then be!
But mortal ears can hear not
What those pale sands hear then;
Sounds not of mortal birth,
Laughter, and dance, and mirth,
Of the golden—haired sea—fairies,
Mermaidens and mermen.
