And lit the Eastern skies with orange flame.
THE MONK'S FANCY
The old monk down by the sea-beach listening,
Thought that the waves were singing a song,
And the wheeling gulls in the sea-spray glistening
Wheeled with the music that bore them along.
Day after day by the sea-beach dreaming,
The old monk heard what the sea-song told,
And he set the tale in the great book gleaming