Borne on a star-blue tide.
He indicated the present moon with flourishing grace as he named it. Juliana did not gasp, but it might have been a gasp in one less than a Whipple. But the troubadour was not to be daunted. Juliana didn't know Dave Cowan as cities knew him.
Enchanted ports we, too, shall touch;
Cadiz or Cameroon;
Nor other pilot need beside
A magic wisp of moon.
Again he gracefully indicated our lunar satellite, and again Juliana nearly gasped.
"Of course, you felt it all, watching those people. I don't blame you for feeling wild."
Juliana lifted one of her stout tan boots toward the stile, and Dave with doffed cap extended a hand to assist her through. Juliana, dazed beyond a Whipple calm for almost the first time in her thirty years, found her own hand perforce upon his.
"You poor thing!" concluded Dave with a swift glance to the ridge where the children had not yet appeared.