Chapter VIII

And after, when the tide was full, and stilled
A little while the seething and the hiss,
And every tributary channel filled
To the brim with rosy streams that swelled to kiss
The grass-roots all a-wash and goose-tongue wild
And salt-sap rosemary,--then how well content
I was to rest me like a breathless child
With play-time rapture spent,--
To lapse and loiter till the change should come
And the great floods turn seaward, roaring home.