By The North Sea / Arthur Conan Doyle

Her cheek was wet with North Sea spray,
 We walked where tide and shingle meet;
 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 day,
 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.