I OFTEN wander on the beach
Where once, so brown of limb,
The biting air, the roaring surf
Summoned me to swim.
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It is small comfort to become old and limited. Admirably, the poet does not express jealousy of the new, able-bodied swimmers. He conveys melancholy and serenity about the tides of life.
It is small comfort to become old and limited. Admirably, the poet does not express jealousy of the new, able-bodied swimmers. He conveys melancholy and serenity about the tides of life.
A nice poem for easy reading and reciting. very nice indeed.
hmmm... still refreshing godd memories how fitting walking the beach
Great reminiscent of good old summer days of refreshing swims and adventure! Much enjoyed. Like the repetition of Other swimmers will Wonderful, moving figurative imagery of the surf! Overall a reflection at peace and content. Very nice. What warm and comfortable sands Dreaming in the sun. How lovely.