![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The tide comes higher up the smooth, wide beach, Singing the song it has for ages sung Recedes, and carries far beyond our reach The freight my idle hands have seaward flung. Far out upon the waters, like a veil, The mists of evening rise and stretch away Between the horizon and the distant sail, And earth and sea are clothed in sombre gray. The crimson glory of the setting sun Hath lain a moment on the ocean's breast, Till twilight shadows, gathering one by one, Bring us the tidings, day is gone to rest.
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