Country.

There the sea makes country,  as a long dark, deep producer, as seductive manners reach profoundly as if the waves on shorelines are drempt in sleep. Only to wake to him,  touched,  cocooned like kindled wings is the springs of yellow orange and green. Upon hills of perspective nature,  and there the love made chains of flowers,  for the hours blend like cotton cosy, and Posey render sweet perfume.