

rich and varied human experiences that 

 have no chronicle, rise out of the forget - 

 fulness in which they are engulfed, and are 

 puissant once more in the intense and irre- 

 sistible longing with which the heart answers 

 the call of the sea. Once more the blood 

 flows with fuller pulse, the eye flashes with 

 conscious freedom and power, the heart 

 beats to the music of wind and wave, as 

 in the days when the fathers of a long 

 past spread sail and sought home, spoil, 

 or change upon the trackless waste. Into 

 every past the sea has sometime sounded 

 its mighty note of joy or anguish, and 

 deep in every memory there remains some 

 vision of tossing waves that once broke on 

 eyes long sealed. 



All day the free winds have filled the 

 heavens, and flung here and there a hand- 

 ful of foam upon the surface of the deep. 

 No cloud has dimmed the splendour of a 

 day which has filled the round heavens 

 with soft music and touched the sea with 

 strange and changeful beauty. It has been 

 enough to wait and watch to forget self, 

 67 





