That browsed along the reedy brine,
And now and then a tusky boar
Would shake the high reeds of the shore,
A bird blow by,—but that was all.
I watched the lonesome sea-gull pass.
I did remember and forget;
The past rolled by; I stood alone.
I sat the shapely chiselled stone
That stands in tall sweet grasses set;
Ay, girdle deep in long strong grass,