THE HERRING WEIR - James Whitcomb Riley Poems


Poems » james whitcomb riley » the herring weir


Back to the green deeps of the outer bay
    The red and amber currents glide and cringe,
    Diminishing behind a luminous fringe
Of cream-white surf and wandering wraiths of spray.
Stealthily, in the old reluctant way,
    The red flats are uncovered, mile on mile,
    To glitter in the sun a golden while.
Far down the flats, a phantom sharply grey,

The herring weir emerges, quick with spoil.
    Slowly the tide forsakes it. Then draws near,
    Descending from the farm-house on the height,
A cart, with gaping tubs. The oxen toil
    Sombrely o'er the level to the weir,
    And drag a long black trail across the light.