Poems (Bass)/Rising Tide
RISING TIDE.
Foam flecked the fragrant waves rush gayly upThe creamy beach, or sport amid the reefs,With songs triumphant, on and on they come;And as the fair horizon bends her bowTo guard the bay, a "liner" dim discernedIs signaled ere she softly sinks from viewBehind the purple curtain of the deep.
Glance, graceful gull,—Through rifts of spray, until my raptured soulBaptized with joy attunes its eager harpTo Ocean's mood . . . so redolent with life,And hope, and destiny.