Treasure Island

Martin Farquhar Tupper

(July 17, 1810 - November 1889 / London)

Para Thina


The sea ripples bright, and the clouds sail high,
And the sun shines clear in the pure blue sky,
And the pastoral valleys are laughingly gay,
And the harvest is blest with a brilliant day,
And off I stroll to the free sea-side,
For an agate hunt in the down-dropping tide.

O bright pebble-beach, just wet from the sea,
Thy glittering jewels are waiting for me!
And, even if haply no jewels be there,
These grand red cliffs, and this sweet fresh air,
And the rocks in seaweed tapestry clad
Are pearls to my spirit, making me glad.

Ah, Nature! loveliest when most wild,
Own me,-- for I am thine own fond child,
I love thee in storm, I love thee in calm,
And all thy solitudes are my balm,--
But chiefest I love to be lonely and free
In my agate hunts by the shore of the sea.

Submitted: Thursday, September 23, 2010

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