Tag Archives: SUMMERTIME

The sea, my mother, is singing to me With the white foam caught in her hair, With the seaweed swinging its long arms free, To grapple the blown sea air: The sea, my mother, with billowy swell, Is telling her tale to the wave-washed shell.

 

The Sea to the Shell

BRUSNWICK 021

Oh, he rides hard to race the pain
Who rides from love, who rides from home;
But he rides slowly home again,
Whose heart has learnt to love and roam

The Sliprails and the Spur

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foto – brunswick heads boat hire 2008