Poems, now first collected/Eventide

by Edmund Clarence Stedman

 

EVENTIDE

The sunset fires old Portsmouth spires,
Out creeps the ebbing tide;
Beyond the battery-point I see
A glimmering schooner glide;
White flares the turning Whale-back light,
The silent ground-swell rolls;
Low and afar shines one red star
Above the Isles of Shoals.

1888