SMELTING TIME 



Faintly the dark is tinged with Dawn, 

 Softly the River, misty-gray, 

 Swells with the slow tide-waters, drawn 

 Into its current from the bay. 



The reeds and stout spear-grasses, brave, 

 Bend to the flood, which, crashing on, 

 Crushes them down with ruthless wave; 

 But they will rise, when the flood is gone. 



Now, here and there, faint gleams — as r 

 As faery stars in dreamland seen — 

 Dart from the banks into mid-air, 

 Mocking the mists that hang between ; 



And soon the Sun, the Mighty One, 

 Awakes and makes the vapors flee. 

 Oh ! Joy of Morn ! We feel re-born 

 To a Life more full and fresh and free. 



Sink fast the anchors of our skiff; 

 Quick will we get our lines in trim, 

 Our spirits keyed by a keen salt whiff 

 Blown in from sea in the distance dim. 



Now starts the sport. Beyond our wish, 

 Our basket soon with silver brims, 

 That little, quivering, darting fish, 

 The daintiest for a dish that swims. 

 171 



