A nice Kings Beach image:
Image from page 297 of “Poems” (1900)
Image by Internet Archive Book Images
Identifier: poems00lytt
Title: Poems
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors: Lytton, Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton, Earl of, 1831-1891
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, Houghton, Mifflin and Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation
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Text Appearing Before Image:
each success,And pain grows more with every pleas-ure. The draughts I drain to slake my thirstBut fuel more the infernal flame. There tangs a sting in everything : —The more I change, the more the same ! A man that flies before the pest. From wind to wind my cour.se is whirled. This fly accurst stung lo firrt. And drove her wild across the world ! THE SHORE. Can it be women that walk in the sea-mist under the cliffs there ? Where, neath a briny bow, creaming, advances the lipOf the foam, and out from the sand-choked anchors, on to the skiffs there. The long ropes swing through the surge, as it tumbles ; and glitter, and drip. All the place in a lurid, glimmering, emerald glory. Glares like a Titan world come back under heaven again :Yonder, up there, are the steeps of the sea-kings, famous in story ; But who are they on the beach ? They are neither women, nor men. Who knows, are they the lands, or the waters, living creatures ?Born of the boiling sea ? nurst in the seething storms ?
Text Appearing After Image:
iv THE GRAY SAND HILLS, oeR THE COLD SEASHORE.—Page 2J9. m HOLLAND. 239 With their womans hair dishevelled over their stern male features,Striding, bare to the knee ; magniiied maritime forms ! They may be the mothers and wives, they may be the sisters and daughtersOf men on the dark mid-seas, alone in those black-coiled hulls, That toil neatli yon white cloud, whence the moon will rise oer the watersTo-night, with her face on fire, if the wind in the evening lulls. But they may be merely visions, such as only sick men witness (Sitting as I sit here, filled with a wild regret),Framed from the seas misshapen spume with a horrible fitness To the winds in which they walk, and the surges by which they are wet:— Salamanders, sea-wolves, witches, warlocks ; marine monsters. Which the dying seaman beholds, when the rats are swimming away. And an Indian wind gins hiss from an unknown isle, and alone stirsThe broken cloud which burns on the verge of the dead, red day, I know not. All in my
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