(Boats in that climate are so polite),
And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight!
“Through the rare red heather we danced together
(O love, my Willie!), and smelt for flowers;
I must mention again it was gorgeous weather—
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:—
“By rises that flushed with their purple favors,
Thro’ becks that brattled o’er grasses sheen,
We walked or waded, we two young shavers,