When the tide goes out, how each limpid pool
Reflects the sky and the fleecy cloud;
How the rills, like children set free from school,
Prattle and plash and sing aloud!
The shore-birds cheerily call, the while
They dart and circle in merry rout,--
The face of the ocean seems to smile
And the earth to laugh, when the tide goes out.

When the tide goes out, as the years roll by,
And Life sweeps on to the outer bar,
And I feel the chill of the depths that lie
Beyond the shoals where the breakers are,
I will not rail at a kindly Fate,
Or welcome Age with a peevish pout,
But still, with a heart of Youth, await
The final wave, when the tide goes out.

* * * * *

THE WATCHERS

When the great, gray fog comes in, and the damp clouds cloak the shore,
And the tossing waves grow dim, and the white sails flash no more,
Then, over the shrouded sea, where the winding mist-wreaths creep,
The deep-voiced Watchers call, the Watchers who guard the Deep.

* * * * *