62 SPRING-TIDE. 



" Better than such discourse doth silence long, 

 Long, barren silence, square with my desire ; 

 To sit without emotion, hope, or aim, 

 In the loved presence of my cottage-fire, 

 And listen to the flapping of the flame, , 

 Or kettle whispering its faint undersong." 



Come, let us be moving again. There 

 be yet "lusty trouts" on the feed. 



[Exeunt. 



