By the Atlantic
Location
75063
United States
See map: Google Maps
An endless train of hills
Rolls sighing toward the beach;
By us stook in their way
Unhindered as they march
And one by one the shore
They fall upon and smash,
Then into their own troughs
Away in rhythm flush.
Off shadows that they wear
The sun's white arrows flash,
But that low chill they bear
Its summer burn won't quash.
This poem is about:
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: