curated by Adam Fitzgerald

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

The Bristol Channel


The sulky old gray brute!
But when the sunset strokes him,
Or twilight shadows coax him,
He gets so silver-milky,
He turns so soft and silky,
He'd make a water-spaniel for King Knut.


This sea was Lazarus, all day
At Dives' gate he lay,
And lapped the crumbs. Night comes;
The beggar dies -
Forthwith the Channel, coast to coast,
Is Abraham's bosom; and the beggar lies
A lovely ghost.

by T.E. Brown