The Fjord

The wash of the sea on the sloping shore,
The wind in the trees on the bush-clad rise,
The glass-like reflection of bills and skies,
The wake of the vessel a foaming lane,
Which ruts a great swath in the mirrored charm,
The sea-birds now swooping with shrill alarm,
The Fjord,
Wand'ring like some vast Gargantuan maze,
Winding and twisting with each new reach,
Bringing fresh beauty, as if to teach
To wondering Man new ecstasy,
Starting imagination play,
Picturing how in some bygone day,
Smiling valleys had once been here,
Filled with the song of the birds all year,
Till on some fell day a change had brought
Chaos, and from it the Gods had wrought
The Fjord.

J.A.C.