144 

 THE INLAND TIDE. 



Hail ! to the rising water, 



Bright, buoyant, fresh and free ; 



Hail to thee, dimpling daughter 

 Of the far-rolling Sea ; 



Welcome within these winding vales, 



With all thy train of snowy sails. 



Pure from the azure fountain 



Of the unfathom'd maiu; 

 Thou bring'st to the parched mountain 



The cup of joy again: 

 The crystal challice sparkling o*er 

 Seems ever "brighter than before. 



Voices of music follow 



Thy silver-sandalTd feet ; 

 Rock, mead, and woodland hollow 



The ocean-stranger greet. 

 Till far and wide, to inmost dells, 

 Mingled the pleasant murmur swells. 



When soon as swiftly fleeting, 



Unto her native deep. 

 See the bright nymph retreating; 



Away the wild waves leap, 

 Deserting fast the silent shore, 

 That now seems sadder than before. 



Farewell ! to the rapid water. 



So buoyant, fresh and free; 

 Farewell to thee, dimpling daughter 



Of the far-rolling Sea; 

 God-speed thee from these winding vales, 

 With all thy train of snowy sails 1 



Stokes. 



PRINTED IJY G. 1*. IIEARDF.R, 



