13
On this beach the waves are never high:
broken on the sand bars, when they reach the shore—
a stranger might think the sea a bay
so gently do the waters splash and draw away.

The air is sweet, the hedge is in flower;
at such an hour, near such water, lawn, and wood,
the sage writing of our beginnings must have been:
lifting his eyes from the page he chanted,
‘And God saw the earth and seas—that it was good.’