Beeny Cliff

1

O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, 

And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-

The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

I I

The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away

In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say, 

As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

III

A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain, 

And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain, 

And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

IV

-Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky, 

And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh, 

And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by? 

V

What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore, 

The woman now is-elsewhere-whom the ambling pony bore, 

And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore. 

-o0o-