Her cheek was wet with North Sea spray,
We walked where tide and shingle
The long waves rolled from far away
To purr in ripples at our feet.
And as we walked it seemed to me
That three old friends had met that
The old, old sky, the old, old sea,
And love, which is as old as they.
Out seaward hung the brooding mist
We saw it rolling, fold on fold,
And marked the great Sun alchemist
Turn all its leaden edge to gold,
Look well, look well, oh lady mine,
The gray below, the gold above,
For so the grayest life may shine
All golden in the light of love.
-Arthur Conan Doyle
where to stay
thanks to Nicolas