Towards the end of August when the sun was still pleasant, before the early autumn rains and mist had closed in, Algy spent a lazy afternoon at the beach:
I see it as it looked one afternoon
In August,— by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown.
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.
The shining waters with pale currents strewn
[From Long Island Sound by Emma Lazarus.]
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