The speaker evokes Nahant, a rocky Massachusetts coast, as a landscape almost too rich to bear. The earth bows under its own beauty; the sea shines molten; sea-grasses gleam like bronze. In cliff clefts bloom purple sand-peas and chicory bluer than the ocean, while waves fling foam high in white fire. The speaker calls the crashing waves a “joyous thunder” and longs for them to blot out war and its dark sorrow. Yet the final image will not allow it: against the sky, a sentry in khaki paces the cliff. The beauty is present, but war stands at its edge. The mood is bittersweet—wonder at the natural world, undercut by a quiet, watchful grief.
Nahant — Summary
Bowed as an elm under the weight of its beauty, So earth is bowed, under her weight of splendor, Molten sea, richness of leaves and the burnished Bronze of sea-grasses.
Clefts in the cliff shelter the purple sand-peas And chicory flowers bluer than the ocean Flinging its foam high, white fire in sunshine, Jewels of water.
Joyous thunder of blown waves on the ledges, Make me forget war and the dark war-sorrow-- Against the sky a sentry paces the sea-cliff Slim in his khaki.