The Beach Grass Threnody
Reading edition
Lo in the wind the beach grass sings A medley of fantastic things That stirs the silence of the ear With elfin notes we scarce may hear, From formless shapes grotesque and strange That lurk beyond the vision’s range. The fingers of what moon beam sprite, Or lonely demon of the night, Have strummed those sweetly plaintive strings To the weird melody that wrings A note of haunting mystery From the chill vastness of the sea.