The sea wind blows her shining chestnut hair
That flows as from a hidden mountain spring,
Which, as the skylark rising on the wing,
Flies heavenward up, as if in homage rare.
I follow with my eyes this lady fair
Who walks along the beach and gently sings,
Quite unaware of all the joy she brings,
But of my presence she is unaware.
This heavenly vision glides before my eyes;
Then, as a sunbeam plays its devilish tricks,
She seems to vanish quickly without trace.
But is she but an angel in disguise?
I search the empty beach with eyes transfixed
But never more will see her lovely face.
By Josie Whitehead