The graceful gulls with sunlight on their wings
Up the Matanzas soaring fleet and far
Where inlets deep beguile;
And o’er the waters undulant shimmerings
The low coquina isle.
XIII
Then, at the drooping of the twilight hour,
We wander in the ancient plaza where
We breathe the attar of the jasmine flower
Like incense on the altar of the air;