NOW the vexed clouds, wind-driven, spread wings of white, <br />Long leaning wings across the sea and land. <br />The waves creep back bequeathing to our sight <br />The treasure-house of their deserted sand, <br />And where the nearer waves curl white and low, <br />Knee-deep in swirling brine the slow-foot shrimpers go. <br /> <br /> <br />Pale breadth of sand, where clamorous gulls confer, <br />Marked with broad arrows by their planted feet; <br />White rippled pools, where late deep waters were <br />And ever the white waves marshalled in retreat <br />And the grey wind in sole supremacy <br />O'er opal and amber cold of darkening sky and sea.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ebb-tide-3/
