William Ernest Henley

Echoes. 17. The Sands Are Alive with Sunshine

The sands are alive with sunshine,
   The bathers lounge and throng,
And out in the bay a bugle
   Is lilting a gallant song.

The clouds go racing eastward,
   The blithe wind cannot rest,
And a shard on the shingle flashes
   Like the shining soul of a jest;

While children romp in the surges,
   And sweethearts wander free,
And the Firth as with laughter dimples . . .
   I would it were deep over me!