A Bit of Coast

By Madison Cawein

One tree, storm-twisted, like an evil hag,
The sea-wind in its hair, beside a path
Waves frantic arms, as if in wild-witch wrath
At all the world. Gigantic, grey as slag,
Great boulders shoulder through the hills, or crag The coast with danger, monster-like, that lifts
Huge granite, round which wheel the gulls and swifts, And at whose base the rotting sea-weeds drag. Inward the hills are wooded; valley-cleft;
Tangled with berries; vistaed dark with pines;
At whose far end, as ’twere within a frame,
Some trail of water that the ocean left
Gleams like a painting where one white sail shines, Lit with the sunset’s poppy-coloured flame.

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