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ON LONG ISLAND SOUND a Poem | |
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ON LONG ISLAND SOUND
I WANDER daily by thy shore,
Thy rocky shore, Long Island Sound,
And in my little boat explore
The secrets of thy depths profound.
I trace the great brown rocks far down,
O'er which the salt tides ebb and flow,
Encrusted with their rugged shells,
Rocks where the ribbou'd seaweeds grow;
And there the glancing fish I view,
The weakfish and the dusky bass:
The bergalls and the blackfish schools,
And silvery porgees as they pass.
Fast-anchor'd in my swinging boat,
The welcome nibble to await,
I feel the sheepshead at the line,
The sea bass tugging at the bait;
And as I gaze across the wave
I see the shining sturgeon leap,
Springing in air with sudden flash,
Then splashing, plunging to the deep;
I see the porpoise schools sweep by,
In sportive gambollings at their play,
Puffing and snorting as they rise,
Wheeling and tumbling on their way;
And never wearied is my gaze
As o'er the blue expanse it roams,
Viewing the endless billows roll,
White-crested with the yeasty foams.
McLellan, Isaac. Poems of the Rod and Gun. New York: Henry Thorpe, 1886.
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