Novembro

My heart's Ideal, that somewhere out of sight

Art beautiful and gracious and alone,—

Haply, where blue Saronic waves are blown

On shores that keep some touch of old delight,—

How welcome is thy memory, and how bright,

To one who watches over leagues of stone

These chilly northern waters creep and moan

From weary morning unto weary night.

O Shade-form, lovelier than the living crowd,

So kind to votaries, yet thyself unvowed,

So free to human fancies, fancy-free,

My vagrant thought goes out to thee, to thee,

As wandering lonelier than the Poet's cloud,

I listen to the wash of this dull sea.

Poema "On the Beach in November" da autoria de Edward Cracroft LeFroy 

[29/03/1855 ~ 19/09/1891]