Its daisy-disked anemones and rose-feathered stars.

[Pg 17]

II

Forsaken for awhile by that deep roar

Which works in storm and calm the eternal will,

Drags down the cliffs, bids the great hills go by

And shepherds their multitudinous pageantry,—

Here, on this ebb-tide shore

A jewelled bath of beauty, sparkling still,

The little sea-pool smiled away the sea,

And slept on its own plane of bright tranquillity.

III

A self-sufficing soul, a pool in trance,

Un-stirred by all the spirit-winds that blow

From o'er the gulfs of change, content, ere yet

On its own crags, which rough peaked limpets fret

The last rich colours glance,

Content to mirror the sea-bird's wings of snow,

Or feel in some small creek, ere sunset fails,

A tiny Nautilus hoist its lovely purple sails;

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