He stood, a worn-out City clerk — <br /> Who'd toil'd, and seen no holiday, <br /> For forty years from dawn to dark — <br /> Alone beside Caermarthen Bay. <br /> He felt the salt spray on his lips; <br /> Heard children's voices on the sands; <br /> Up the sun's path he saw the ships <br /> Sail on and on to other lands; <br /> And laugh'd aloud. Each sight and sound <br /> To him was joy too deep for tears; <br /> He sat him on the beach, and bound <br /> A blue bandana round his ears <br /> And thought how, posted near his door, <br /> His own green door on Camden Hill, <br /> Two bands at least, most likely more, <br /> Were mingling at their own sweet will <br /> Verdi with Vance. And at the thought <br /> He laugh'd again, and softly drew <br /> That Morning Herald that he'd bought <br /> Forth from his breast, and read it through.<br /><br />Charles Stuart Calverley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peace-a-study/
