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A SEA VIEW.

IPSWICH, MASS.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

THRO' August heats I climb the hill

Swept by the east wind free;

And far below me, pale and still

As moonlight, lies the sea.

Northward, upon its farthest rim

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The Isles of Shoals peer thro' the dim

And hazy sky that bathes around

The far horizon's utmost bound;

And, nearer, gleams old Newburyport's enchanted ground, -

White dots against a woody headland grim.

Westward, and seeming as it rode

On hollowing billows green,

Is Ipswich; many a quaint abode

Thro' bending trees half seen,

With jutting wall and roof's long sweep,

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