A setting sun begilds the sand,
The pink-tipped wavelet-fall and rise,
Murmurless, as the rays expand —
Their gold-streaked splendor through the skies.

A beach of shells and oolites rare,
Receives the Ocean's cool embrace;
Above, the osprey cleaves the air,
Soaring with curves of febrile grace.

No cot, no sward, no trace of man,
No passing sail to intervene:
Blue billows far as eye can scan,
Red heavens floating o'er the scene.