Beeny Cliff

I O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free- The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me. I I The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say, As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day. III A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain, And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain, And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main. IV -Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky, And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh, And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by? V What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore, The woman now is-elsewhere-whom the ambling pony bore, And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.