Southport, August 1934
By June Saunders (1934, 1939)
Was ever morning lovelier than this
Beside a dreaming sea
Blue as a cloudy turquoise, and as pale,
With Sleep's tranquility?
Hushed is the passing wind's imperious call
Before the unstirred beauty of it all.
Set in a fringe of shining silver sand
The water lies, a gem
With shimmering lights that quiver when the sun
And shadowed depths that seagulls, flower-white,
Hang over as they pause in wheeling flight.
White dunes, white boats with all their canvas furled
Beneath a stainless sky!
Among the rank, coarse grass where no one comes
Content, I lie,
Quite satisfied that in all days of bliss
Was never morning lovelier than this.
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