The sunset's roses faint and fain decline.
⁠Inshore the still sea shimmers scale on scale,
⁠Like an enormous coat of magic mail —
Sheet silver shot with tremulous opaline.

Rare boats traverse it, glidingly supine.
⁠The Inchkeith light by moments flashes pale.
⁠The distance darkles, and a far grey sail
Melts vague into the solemn evenshine.

The thickening dusk is quick with pattering feet
⁠And swishing dresses, and the airs of June
With broad sea-scents and blown cigars are sweet;

And over yonder, where the ripples beat,
⁠Sweethearts are wandering, while the yellowing moon
Sails the blue lift, and wide stars glance and greet.

A doubtful stir, a sound yet not a sound,
Again the stillness, now a whisper breathed
And lost in breathing — now a growing light
And laughter, laughter from the rosy east
With quickening air and music: on they drive.
Riot of nymph and triton — strange sea-beast —
Foam-flashed and shaken jewels: throned o'er all,
Queen of the pomp yet gentlier than a queen.
Fenced from rough sport yet tuned for merry play.
Rides Galatea, fairest maid that charms
The wild-eyed sea-birds, 'tween the sea and sky.

⁠Galatea, here to thee.
⁠Queen of mirth and jollity.
⁠Raise we loud our jocund song.
⁠Shouting with thy triton throng, —
⁠Shouting, as their horns out ring
⁠At the pleasant song we sing, —
⁠Shouting, merry maid, to thee,
⁠Queen of mirth and jollity.
 
⁠Ay, perchance on yonder shore
⁠Acis leads his flock once more,
⁠Stares entranced across the wave,
⁠Hopeful of thy pageant brave.
⁠Ay, perchance — or Polypheme,
⁠Where the mountain torrents stream,
⁠Slow to think and slow to move,
⁠Slowly feels the force of love
⁠Rising through his monstrous frame,
⁠Till his great lips shape thy name,
⁠Galatea, hailing thee
⁠Queen of mirth and jollity.

⁠When young Raphael did stand
⁠Lone on Adriatic strand,
⁠Peering far across the brine.
⁠What saw he save charms of thine?
⁠Turned he from the virgin's face.
⁠From her sweet religious grace,
⁠From the chamber tapestried,
⁠Turned as bridegroom to his bride.
⁠Turned afire with sea-king's mood,
⁠Laughed in glory where he stood
⁠Shouting loud across the sea —
⁠Galatea, fresh and free.
⁠Maiden queen, I paint for thee!

⁠I meseems am Acis now
⁠For one moment's joy, as thou.
⁠Tossing all thy tresses free
⁠To the wild wind's revelry,
⁠Look'st with wide and wayward eyes
⁠Into mine. Before me rise
⁠Pomps and pageants pure and bright.
⁠Mete for Raphael's delight,
⁠When he passed from cloister dim.
⁠Saw thee all in sunshine swim,
⁠Gave his loyal heart to thee.
⁠Queen of light and liberty.

⁠Queen, let me thy presence greet.
⁠Let me plunge to kiss thy feet.
⁠Roll amid thy jocund throng.
⁠Winding shell or shouting song.
⁠Where all day the clear green waves
⁠High above thy shadowed caves
⁠Toss their flying crests in glee.
⁠And the brave breeze fitfully
⁠Bears the goodly smell of brine;
⁠Galatea, make me thine.
⁠Singer of sweet songs to thee,
⁠Queen of light and liberty.

I thought, I must be dreaming
⁠The day you whispered low.
And told me the sweet secret
⁠That I alone must know.

I listened quite in silence.
⁠Perhaps you thought me cold;
My heart was overflowing
⁠With tenderness untold.

Just for one fleeting moment,
⁠One only, did you stay.
Were you and I both dreaming
⁠That happy summer's day?