A Sea-Town.

A long street straggling up a church-crowned hill,1
Whitened from end to end with rain and wind,2
The brown old houses, e’en more straggling still,3
Branching therefrom, cluster to cluster joined.4
Craft oddly grouped, and craft in ordered rows,5
Crowd the quaint wharf whence now and then a gray6
And grim old lugger scuds with surfy bows7
And press of dingy canvas. Far away,8
A white-winged ship makes for the dim coast-line9
Where hides a busy port ; while farther far10
A wee sail flashing like a falling star11
Gleams and is gone. The sunset’s fiery sign12
Is set on all the hills ; and evening soon13
Brings home the boats beneath the brightening moon.14