THE TREACHEROUS TIDE
I sat on a slippery rock,
In the grey cliff's opal shade,
And the wanton waves went curvetting by
Like a roystering cavalcade.
And they doffed their crested plumes,
As they kissed the blushing sand,
Till her rosy face dimpled over with smiles
At the tricks of the frolicsome band.
Then the kittywake laughed, "Ha! ha!"
And the sea-mew wailed with pain,
As she sailed away on the shivering wind
To her home o'er the surging main.
And the jelly-fish quivered with rage,
While the dog-crabs stood by to gaze,
And the star-fish spread all her fingers abroad,
And sighed for her grandmothers' days.
And the curlew screamed, "Fie! fie!"
And the great gull groaned at the sight,
And the albatross rose and fled with a shriek
To her nest on the perilous height.
* * * * *
Good gracious! the place where I sat
With sea-water was rapidly filling,
And a hoarse voice cried, "Sir, you're caught by the tide!
And I'll carry ye off for a shilling!"
| SCENT BEES | A SAIL OVER THE BAY |
"Local Colour."—Place: South Parade, Cheapenham-on-Sea.—Edith. "Mabel dear, would you get me Baedeker's Switzerland and the last Number of the World."
Mabel. "What do you want them for?"
Edith. "Oh, I'm writing letters, and we're in the Engadine, you know, and I just want to describe some of our favourite haunts, and mention a few of the people who are staying there—here, I mean."