46 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



will come, and lapping up his toil 

 obliterate his steps." 



The flush of morning comes upon 

 the sea and pales the beacon's rays. 

 The night mists shrink before the sun, 

 and the low coast is revealed, a bar of 

 copper. There is no breath of wind, 

 not a ripple; the boats at anchor are 

 motionless as sleeping swans. A fisher- 

 man, whose gray sail hangs idle above 

 the piles of nets, poles his way up the 

 creek, and the startled herons drop 

 among the reeds. 



On the land the trees, now in full 

 summer leaf, bend low, and the drench- 

 ing dews distil the scent of the mown 

 fields. Between the sea and land lie 

 the marshes; here and there men 

 have essayed to build a dike to keep 

 them from the sea, or pile a road to 

 traverse them. Always the sea tran- 

 scends their work, and pushing, swal- 



