There were lonesome birds on a misty shore,
And a kind of far-off rumbling roar,
And creatures that dig in the sand to hide,
And empty shells at the edge of a tide.
The water was blue and smooth and wide—
    It was only a tired old sea.

Then slowly a big wave grew and grew,
A white wave spilled from the top of the blue
And roared up the shore to splash me! Instead,
It splashed itself, and curled back to its bed
Like a tired old dragon not quite dead—
    But dragons don’t frighten me!