faire rire dans la manche

I've never been to Dover Beach. I once stayed in a hotel right on Deal beach though, a few miles up the coast. My room was on the ground floor with a verandah stepping down onto the shingle: ideal, if it hadn't been November. The sound of the waves, I thought, would be soothing to sleep to; as it was the noise kept me awake for ages.
I didn't know that The Fugs had made a version of Arnold's poem: you can hear it here, for a limited time of course; it's rather dated but the opening's nice. And here's Anthony Hecht's poem The Dover Bitch.

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