A THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL NAKED house, a naked moor, Yet shall your ragged moor receive And oft the morning muser see Larks rising from the broomy lea, A VISIT FROM THE SEA AR from the loud sea beaches FAR Where he goes fishing and crying, Here in the inland garden Why is the sea-gull flying? Here are no fish to dive for; Fresh is the river water And quiet among the rushes; This is no home for the sea-gull But for the rooks and thrushes. Pity the bird that has wandered! Hurry him home to the ocean, Let him come here no more! High on the sea-cliff ledges The white gulls are trooping and crying, Here among rooks and roses, Why is the sea-gull flying? TO A GARDENER RIEND, in my mountain-side demesne, And linnet-haunted garden-ground, Let still the esculents abound. |