Classic Poem

The hum of many voices rises near
And from the road comes din of carriage-wheels;
Beyond are sails that draw the outbound keels
Which northward from the shimmering harbor steer;
And there are myriads of strange faces here
Smooth brows that happy childhood's hour reveals,
And wrinkled cheeks where care has stamped his seals
And wandering crowds by sea-wall and by pier.

And we beneath the cloudless summer sky
See all this gathering pass us in a stream,
Nor note the lights that on the water gleam
Nor white-winged gulls that seaward dip and fly;
We are alone — the rest is but a dream
In shadow-land we linger, you and I.