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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358483" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ocean Strand</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358483" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O leave the labouring roadways of the town,<br>The shifting faces and the changeful hue<br>Of markets, and broad echoing streets that drown<br>The heart’s own silent music. Though they too<br>Sing in their proper rhythm, and still delight<br>The friendly ear that loves warm human kind,<br>Yet it is good to leave them all behind,<br>Now when from lily dawn to purple night<br>Summer is queen,<br>Summer is queen in all the happy land.<br>Far, far away among the valleys green<br>Let us go forth and wander hand in hand<br>Beyond those solemn hills that we have seen<br>So often welcome home the falling sun<br>Into their cloudy peaks when day was done—<br>Beyond them till we find the ocean strand<br>And hear the great waves run,<br>With the waste song whose melodies I’d follow<br>And weary not for many a summer day,<br>Born of the vaulted breakers arching hollow<br>Before they flash and scatter into spray,<br>On, if we should be weary of their play<br>Then I would lead you further into land<br>Where, with their ragged walls, the stately rocks<br>Shunt in smooth courts and paved with quiet sand<br>To silence dedicate. The sea-god’s flocks<br>Have rested here, and mortal eyes have seen<br>By great adventure at the dead of noon<br>A lonely nereid drowsing half a-swoon<br>Buried beneath her dark and dripping locks.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Clive+Staples+Lewis">Clive Staples Lewis</a></strong></div>