Watch Hill.

A poem by Hattie Howard

Fair summer home peninsula,
Enriched by every breeze
From fragrant islands, wafted far
Across the sunny seas!

A profile rare! a height of land
Outlined 'gainst heaven's blue
With bolder touch than skillful hand
Of artist ever drew.

In "mountain billows" that parade
The grandeur of the deep,
Is His supremacy displayed
Whose hands the waters keep.

No sweep of waves, in broad expanse,
With wild, weird melody,
Shall thus an unseen world enhance -
"There shall be no more sea!"

A wealth of joy-perfected days,
Where glorious sunset dyes,
Resplendent in declining rays,
Surpass Italia's skies!

Proud caravansaries that compete
In studied arts to please
The multitude, with restless feet,
From earth's antipodes!

A motley company astray:
The sojourner for health,
The grave, serene, the devotée
Of fashion and of wealth.

Artistic cottages upreared
In beauty, strength, and skill -
The happy, healthful homes endeared
To lovers of Watch Hill!

A golden crown adorns the spot;
Forever blessed be
The hand beneficent that wrought
"A temple by the sea!"

A star in some bright diadem
In glory it shall be,
For truly, "I will honor them,"
Saith God, "who honor me."

When Christians meet to praise and pray,
May feet that never trod
The sanctuary learn the way
Unto the house of God.

Glad pæans down the centuries
With joy the world shall thrill:
"The Lord, revered and honored, is
The glory of Watch Hill!"

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