178 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



A ud the marsh is meshed with a million veins, 

 That like BS with rosy and silvery essences flow 

 In the ro^e and silver evening glow. 

 Farewell, my lord Sun! 

 The creeks overflow ; a thousand rivulets run 

 'Twixt the roois of the sod; the blades of the marsh grass stir; 

 Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whirr. 



Sidney Laxier. 



