THE LAIR OF SOMETHING 

 STRIPED. 



''in HAT rock 's awash, aswash. Tighter 

 A draws the mussel on his byssus. 

 The tide has turned. A thousand kelp 

 streamers point the way the flood must 

 go, and eagerly, not drooping as at last of 

 ebb when obedience had seemed to satisfy 

 their importuning. 



The seeping barnacles make merry 

 and clap their valves, for diatoms are 

 coming, the sweet, the beautiful, food for 

 the rough and ugly ; coming from the 

 devious gardens that they glorified among 

 the schist splinters and boulders, beneath 

 the swelling and subsiding and unceasing 

 flow of green illumined sea water. 



The rock is yet uncovered. No 't is 

 not. And then once more it seems to 

 sink, till the lolling pelage of wrack lifts 

 71 



