Skip to content
1860–1932

A SAILOR AMID THE HILLS

Clinton Scollard

What does he hear in dreams? The surging wind, Its long-drawn cadence, its wild harmony, A mighty harp of infinite strings designed, Whose sound to him seems sweet immeasurably?

Nay, nay, but through the spaces of his mind, Plangent or pleading, loud or low-defined, The ever-haunting murmur of the sea!

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
A SAILOR AMID THE HILLS · Clinton Scollard · Poetry Cove