The very waves that washed the sand 



Below him he had seen before 

 Whitening the Scandinavian strand 



And sultry Mauritanian shore, 

 From ice-rimmed isles, from summer seas 

 Palm-fringed, they brought him messages. 



Whittier. 



. . . but yet 

 I feel for marinei'S of stormy nights, 

 And feel for wives that watch ashore. Ay, ay, 

 If I had learning I would pray the Lord 



To bring them in. 

 But I make bold to say, " Lord, good Lord, 

 I am a broken-down poor man, a fool 

 To speak to thee. But in the book 'tis writ. 

 As I hear say from others that can read. 

 How when thou earnest thou didst love the sea, 

 And live with fisher folk, whereby 'tis sure 

 Thou knowest all the peril they go through 

 And all their trouble." 



Jean Ingelow. 

 98 



