Reverie: The Orchard on the Slope

Thin ridges of land unploughed
Along the tree-rows
Covered with long cream grasses
Wind-torn.
Brown sand between them,
Blue boughs above.

. . . . .
Row and row of waves ever
In the breaking;
Ever in arching and convulsed
Imminence;
Roll of muddy sea between;
Low clouds down-pressing
And pallid and streaming rain.