ON THE SOUTH COAST.
39
Death, more proud than the kings' heads bowed before
him, stronger than all things, bows
Here his head: as if death were dead, and kingship
plucked from his crownless brows,
Life hath here such a face of cheer as change appals not
and time avows.
Skies fulfilled with the sundown, stilled and splendid,
spread as a flower that spreads,
Pave with rarer device and fairer than heaven's the
luminous oyster-beds,
Grass-embanked, and in square plots ranked, inlaid with
gems that the sundown sheds.
Squares more bright and with lovelier light than heaven
that kindled it shines with shine
Warm and soft as the dome aloft, but heavenlier yet than
the sun's own shrine:
Heaven is high, but the water-sky lit here seems deeper
and more divine.
