Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/477

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Breakers of prancing, flouncing, laundry blue Foam into suds upon a green-trimmed beach Spotless as linen: these rare waters leach From proper sand the slightest ugly hue. Black, ape-like boatmen block the pleasant view, Jabbering admirals, flat of skull and speech, Magnificently condescending, each Granting perfection to his craft and crew.

Virtues and charms as peerless constitute The core of every claim made every hour By true Barbadians for their land, sea, sun— Their own worth first, Time's quintessential flower— Leaving a modicum of good repute For guests like Nelson and [[Author:George Washington}}.

{{c|ST. GEORGE'S, GRENADA]] This is too rare, too lovely, to be fact! Some wandering Vermeer who knew his East Painted it on glazed celadon, a feast Of lights and shadows in one swift sure act: Walls honey-stippled, roofs a cataphract Of ruddy tiles, the cassock of a priest Raven against pale beryl silver-fleeced Or sprayed by verdure's emerald cataract.

For thus, Grenada, I beheld you first, Anchored within a crater-harbor's calm: A fairy picture lingering with me still, Ungilt, untarnished, by your best and worst— This picture, crowned by one majestic palm Bending to bless you from a golden hill.