THE morning sun has pierced the mist, And beach and cliff and ocean kissed. Blue as the lapis-lazuli The sea reflects the azure sky. In the salt healthy breeze I stand Upon the solid floor of sand. Along the untrodden shore are seen Fresh tufts of weed maroon and green, And ruffled kelp and stranded sticks And shells and stones and sea-moss mix. The low black rocks, forever wet, Lie tangled in their pulpy net. The shy sand-pipers fly and light -- And swallows circle out of sight. Out where the sky the horizon meets Glide glimmering sails in scattered fleets. Old Ocean smiles as though amid His leagues of brine no treachery hid. And safe upon the sandy marge, By stranded boat and floating barge, Gay children leap and laugh and run, Browned by the salt air and the sun. |