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Nahant, thy beach is beautiful! –
A dim line through the tossing waves,
Along whose verge the spectre gull
Her thin and snowy plumage laves –
What time the Summer’s greenness lingers
Within thy sunned and sheltered nooks,
And the green vine with twining fingers
Creeps up and down thy hanging rocks!
Around – the blue and level main –
Above – a sunshine rich, as fell,
Bright’ning of old, with golden rain,
The isle Apollo loved so well!–
And far off, dim and beautiful
The snow-white sail and graceful hull,
Slow dipping to the billow’s swell.
Bright spot! – The Isles of Greece may share
The flowery earth – the gentle air;–
The orange-bough may blossom well
In warm Bermuda’s sunniest dell;–
But fairer shores and brighter waters,
Gazed on by purer, lovelier daughters,
Beneath the light of kindlier skies,
The wanderer to the farthest bound
Of people Earth hath never found
Than thine – New England’s Paradise! |