Literature and Art 



49 



The wild wind raves, the tide runs high ' 



Lesson 23 

 THE SANDPIPER 



ACROSS the narrow beach we flit, 

 One little sandpiper and I, 

 And fast I gather, bit by bit, 



The scattered driftwood bleached and dry, 

 The wild waves reach their hands for it, 



The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 

 As up and down the beach we flit, 

 One little sandpiper and I. 



Above our heads the sullen clouds 



Scud black and swift across the sky; 



Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 



Stand out the white lighthouses high. 



