MORNING on the misty highlands,
On the outer shining islands;
Gulls their grey way seaward winging
To the blinking zones of blue;
South winds in the shallows singing
Where I wander far with you,
Little pipers, careless, free,
On the sandlands by the sea.
All day, on the amber edges
Of the pools and silver ledges
Of the sedgelands in the sun,
Restlessly the pipers run–
Weet, a-weet, a-weet, a-weet!
Sun and wind and sifting sand,
Joy of June on sea and land–
Weet, a-weet, a-weet, weet weet!
Evening on the fading highlands,
On the outer amber islands;
Grey wings folded in the sedges,
In the glimmer of a star
Where the lamps of Algol are
Shining on a world's white edges.
Moonlight on the sombre forelands,
On the outer, silver shorelands;
Peaceful mists that pale and drift
Seaward like a phantom fleet,
Through a sapphire, shadowed rift.
Weet, a-weet, a-weet, weet weet!
Night, and stars, and empty hushes,
Darkness in the purple rushes–
Weet, a-weet, a-weet, weet weet!