Coney Isle

Coney Isle

Oh, the gleam and the glitter, the glint and the glow,
The gurgle and gush, the growl and the go,
The ripple and rage, the rush and the roar,
Of the surges that roll on the sandy seashore,
Of the isle, Coney Isle,
Where there's many a thing to beguile.
Cooling air, viands rare,
Men and women and lovers to pair;
All are there, and they share,
In the duties and beauties to spare,
That are found, all around,
To appeal to the sight; and the sound
Of the tramping of feet on the ground,
And the rushing of cars homeward bound.
'Tis delightful, exciting, and more than inviting,
To the weary and dreary,
The rich and the sad,
The moping and hoping,
The gay and the glad,
To stay for a while at the isle:
The restful, the guestful, the lungful, the vestful,
The wave beating, clam eating, isle.

L.H.L.

3:49, p. 2

1890.08.30