Drifting
by Thomas Buchanan Read
My soul to-day
Is far away,
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;
My winged boat,
A bird afloat
Swims round the purple peaks remote:
Round purple peaks
It sails, and seeks
Blue inlets and their crystal cracks,
Where high rocks throw,
Through deeps below
A duplicated golden glow.
No more, no more
The worldly shore
Upbraids me with it's loud uproar!
With dreamful eyes
My spirit lies
Under the walls of Paradise!
Morning Shadows on a hot summer morning.
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| Shadows |
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| Gunslinger and trusty dog |
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| More fun |
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| Marley and the dog days of summer. |
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