The Touch of Other Seas

The green tide rises, and the beaches feel
Touched by the otherness that lies beyond
The taste of things washed from the deep ship's keel
The slow strange stirring of a seaweed frond
The flotsum washed from fabled Trebizond.
The green tide rises, and the beaches feel
Uncanny callings no land-wind can heal
The pirates call that leads youth to abscond
The taste of things washed from the deep ship's keel
Their colour, blue, turquoise, verdue, or teal,
The white bleached bones, of sun-scorched vagabond.
The green tide rises, and the beaches feel
What treasure hunters only hope to steal
The ancient relics, gold so white or blond
The taste of things washed from the deep ship's keel
Doubloons of Spain, or steelwork of Sevile
The things worn smooth, as water in mill-pond
The green tide rises, and the beaches feel
The taste of things washed from the deep ship's keel