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