Broad shadows fall. On all the mountain side <br /> The scythe-swept fields are silent. Slowly home <br /> By the long beach the high-piled hay-carts come, <br /> Splashing the pale salt shallows. Over wide <br /> Fawn-coloured wastes of mud the slipping tide, <br /> Round the dun rocks and wattled fisheries, <br /> Creeps murmuring in. And now by twos and threes, <br /> O'er the slow spreading pools with clamorous chide, <br /> Belated crows from strip to strip take flight. <br /> Soon will the first star shine; yet ere the night <br /> Reach onward to the pale-green distances, <br /> The sun's last shaft beyond the gray sea-floor <br /> Still dreams upon the Kamouraska shore, <br /> And the long line of golden villages.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sunset-at-les-eboulements/
