The Marble-Streeted Town

I reach the marble-streeted town,
   Whose "Sound" outbreathes its air
      Of sharp sea-salts;
I see the movement up and down
      As when she was there.
Ships of all countries come and go,
   The bandsmen boom in the sun
      A throbbing waltz;
The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe
      As when she was one.
I move away as the music rolls:
   The place seems not to mind
      That she--of old
The brightest of its native souls -
      Left it behind!
Over this green aforedays she
   On light treads went and came,
      Yea, times untold;
Yet none here knows her history -
      Has heard her name.

PLYMOUTH (1914).