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There's a whisper in the wind of a song from distant
That tugs against your heart like a kite before the breeze.
And a feeling that you've been here in an old familiar way,
And strolled the lanes with Lily, and saled the cape with "Mey."
Neath old arching sycamores, the gas lamp's placid glow
Plays shadows through the pickets, and the porch swing's swaying slow,
As an easy breeze from bayward sustains a plover's glide,
And the night creeps in from eastward on the changing of the tide.
Upshore day trippers promenade down Boardman's famous walk,
With seafoam and taffy and Lady Luck's sweet talk,
While o'er bay towards Dover, old Chew goes 'bout his rounds,
As long before, now misty robed, he walks his favored town.
The seine trawlers head round the Prissy Wick shoals,
With their red hakes and flukes and bounty untold.
And the cape diamonds sparkle and gleam in the light,
From the beams of the moon, riding in on the night.
How is it the world, seen through Carpenter's lace,
Appears to move slower, with abundance of grace?
And lemonade stands or swans in the mist,
Speak sweet to the heart, like a lover's lost kiss.
For there's a whisper in the wind here, a song from distant seas
That tugs at your soul, like a kite in the breeze.
And a feeling you belong, in an old familiar way
To stroll the land with Lily - to sail the cape with "Mey."
– Terry Moore ©2015