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Afternoon.
| AFTERNOON.
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"Oh, sweet," she said, "that afternoon,
The smile of God on land and sea;
And sweet through many a vanished June
Comes back, like a remembered tune,
The silence of the shore to me!
Oh, sweet the moment was! the scene!
The flashing of the shingles wet,
The scent of clover and of bean,
Warm fragrance of the fields that met
The salt fresh breezes of the sea!
The white sails dropping out of sight
Were kindled into tawny flame,
And all the moor lay steeped in light
The way he came, the way he came!"
"Oh, sweet," she said, "the warm, wet reach
Of glittering sand! the tide that woke
In tumult all along the beach,
Yet made the very calm it broke!
Blue was the heaven that o'er us bent;
The sheep upon a sunward slope
A quiet to the landscape lent;
And all things gave a widening scope
To thoughts of peace and calm content,
And all things seemed in league with hope
The way we went, the way we went!"
Dora Greenwell.
Good Words.
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