SAND DUNES AND SALT MARSHES 



ows chase each other over the surface of the 

 marshes, or as the lengthening shadows of the 

 hills extend their range with the declining 

 sun. On windy days the tall thatch bends 

 before the blasts, and shimmering waves like 

 those on the surface of the water pass over it. 



On such days, with the wind in the north- 

 west quarter, the air is exceedingly clear, and 

 every wooded island and distant hill stands 

 out with great distinctness, while the creeks 

 take on an intense blue which contrasts 

 strongly with the light green of the marshes. 



The tides creeping over the sand flats, swell- 

 ing the creeks, obliterating the brown banks 

 and drowning the tall thatch, bursting out in 

 unexpected veins and pools throughout the 

 marshes,— all this, notwithstanding its twice 

 daily repetition, is never other than a miracle. 



" My holes were empty like a cup, 

 In every hole the sea came up, 

 Till it could hold no more." 



And when at the full of the moon in the night, 

 the sea spreads silently over the broad marsh, 

 reflecting the silvery light in the sky, the 

 miracle is at its height! 



198 



