A WRECK.
They walked along the murmuring shore: High was the tide, and near and wide In flashing hints of iris tintsEach wave its splendid foam-wreath bore.
Faint in the purple east, and far, One bending sail swelled on the gale; The tide was full, but white as woolThe breakers combed beyond the bar.
They saw no breakers' angry bale Lift into sight its deathly light; They only saw the laughing flaw,And all their hope was on the sail.
They walked again beside the shore: The tide was down, the sands were brown, And fleck on fleck of one great wreckStrewed all its barren beauty o'er.
