158 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



some baffling and alluring ether distilled from 

 under-sea caverns where cool green mermen tend 

 emerald fires. The scent of it levitates from the 

 wash of every wave and if you will watch with 

 pure eyes and clear sight you may of moonlight 

 nights see white-bodied mermaids flashing 

 through the combers to drink of it. No wonder 

 these are immortal. 



Nor can you take from the things of the sea 

 this life-giving essence, once they have attained 

 it through growth during immersion in its depths, 

 though perchance, as Emerson sang, "they left 

 their beauty on the shore, with the sun and the 

 sand and the wild uproar." The shell on the 

 mantel shelf of the mariner's inland home may 

 be unsightly and out of place. But put your ear 

 to it. Out of the common noises of the day, it 

 weaves for you the song of the deep tides, the 

 murmur of ocean caves and the croon of the 

 breakers on the outer reef, and dull indeed is 

 your inner ear if you cannot hear these things, 

 and at the sound see the perfect curl of green 

 waves and smell that cool fragrance which comes 

 only from their breaking. 



To the marshes in summer come the farmers 

 from far inland, making holiday for themselves 



