Collected Poems of John Holmes
Holmes, John A., Jr.
The sea, with the dying sun, died
To hills of rolling gray.
The far faint headland's lifting side
Loses the light of day.
Off-shore the misty islands burn
Beyond dark rocks and bars,
Where sea-swells lift, and fall, and turn
Under the silent stars.
Along the beach no slow surf dies.
The winds are still, still,
On sands where no long shadow lies
From a low sea-side hill.
Slow fingers creeping up the brow
Pull down a ghostly tree,
The islands fade, the headlands now
Slide gray in a gray sea.