SAND DUNES AND SALT MARSHES 



Each winding creek in grave entrancement lies 

 A rhapsody of morning-stars." 



The ebbing tide is as wonderful as the flood: 

 and the sunrise is as wonderful as the sunset. 



'' But the air and my heart and the earth are a-thrill, — 

 And look where the wild duck sails round the bend of the 

 river, — 



And look where a passionate shiver 



Expectant is bending the blades 

 Of the marsh-grass in serial shimmers and shades, — 

 And invisible wings, fast fleeting, fast fleeting, 



Are beating 

 The dark overhead as my heart beats, — and steady and 



free 

 Is the ebb-tide from marsh to sea — 



(Run home, little streams. 



With your lapfuls of stars and of dreams), — 

 And a sailor unseen is hoisting a-peak. 

 For list, down the inshore curve of the creek 



How merrily flutters the sail, — 

 And lo, in the East! Will the East unveil? 

 The East is unveiled, the East hath confessed 

 A flush: 'tis dead; 'tis aHve: 'tis dead, ere the West 

 Was aware of it: nay, 'tis abiding, 'tis unwithdrawn: 



Have a care, sweet Heaven! 'Tis Dawn." 



To float down in a canoe with the ebb tide, 

 to explore the narrow channels now sunk deep 



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