Poems (Henley)/The sands are alive with sunshine
XVII
The sands are alive with sunshine, The bathers lounge and throng,And out in the bay a bugle Is lilting a gallant song.
The clouds go racing eastward, The blithe wind cannot rest,And a shard on the shingle flashes Like the shining soul of a jest;
While children romp in the surges, And sweethearts wander free,And the Firth as with laughter dimples . . . I would it were deep over me!
1875