* * * * *

WHEN THE TIDE GOES OUT

When the tide goes out, how the foam-flakes dance
Through the wiry sedge-grass near the shore;
How the ripples spark in the sunbeam's glance,
As they madly tumble the pebbles o'er!
The barnacled rocks emerging seem,
As their beards of seaweed are tossed about,
Like giants who wake from a troubled dream
And laugh for joy when the tide goes out.

When the tide goes out, how the shining sands,
Like silver, glisten, and gleam, and glow;
How the sea-gulls whirl, in their joyous bands,
O'er the shoals where the breakers come and go!
The coal-black driftwood, gleaming wet,
Relic of by-gone vessel stout,
With its clinging shells, seems a bar of jet,
Studded with pearls, when the tide goes out.

When the tide goes out, how the breezes blow
The nodding plumes of the pine-trees through;
How the far-off ships, like flakes of snow,
Are lightly sprinkled upon the blue!
The Sea, as he moves in his slow retreat,
Like a warrior struggling for each redoubt,
But with flashing lances the sand-bars meet
And drive him back, when the tide goes out.