A flutter of white
On Appledore’s shoulder,—
The prettiest sight!
A flutter of white,
One by one they a-light
On the dark, jutting bowlder;
A flutter of white
On Appledore’s shoulder.
Six girls in a flock
Where the white sea is breaking
Against the gray rock.
Six girls in a flock—
Their gay voices mock
The din it is making;
Six girls in a flock
Where the white sea is breaking.
Each flutters and clings
To the torn granite edges,—
The merriest things!
Each flutters and clings.
Have they feathers and wings,
As they perch on the ledges?
Each flutters and clings
To the torn granite edges.
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