The Flood Tide
He paused a moment by the sea,
Then stooped, and with a leisured hand
He wrote in casual tracery
Her name upon the flux of sand.
The waves beat up and swiftly spun
A silver web at every stride;
He watched their long, thin fingers run
The letters back into the tide.
But she had written where the tide
Could never its grey waters fling;
She watched the longest wave subside
Ere it could touch the lettering.