Generations Crossed
With shining curls beneath a bonnet,
So innocent against the wide, wide sea,
At a tender age, lovelier than a sonnet,
Entranced with sand and surf, carefree.
Her smile and wave, like mine, were not striven,
The generations were crossed beside the sea;
There, and since, I hoped I may have given
What she so freely gave to me.
—James A. Langley
