Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

Aelfrida Tillyard . Now as I stand above thy flowing tide I see a Spanish galleon take the bay So come my dreams upon my soul a- ride , As waves are ridden by the tossing spray . O sea , O mountains , make my song to be Mist of the mountains , foam of the sea . The sea grows leaden as the sun goes down , The mountains shudder forth their breath in mist , But the highest hill - crest wears a golden crown , So crowned are men who to their dreams may list . O sea , O mountains , make my song to be Mist of the mountains , foam of the sea . O western hills , the cradle of my race , Ye mountains cold , their marriage - bed and shroud , Than yours I'll seek no other wife 's embrace If I may speak your stormy soul aloud . O sea , O mountains , make my song to be Mist of the mountains , foam of the sea . 195