86
OFF SHORE
White glories of wings
As of seafaring birds
That flock from the springs
Of the sunrise in herds
With the wind for a herdsman, and hasten or halt at the
change of his words.
As the watchword's change
When the wind's note shifts,
And the skies grow strange,
And the white squall drifts
Up sharp from the sea-line, vexing the sea till the low
cloud lifts.
At the charge of his word
Bidding pause, bidding haste,
When the ranks are stirred
