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A RISING TIDE

From the October 1885 issue of The Christian Science Journal


The west wind clears the morning, The sea shines silvery gray; The night was long, but fresh and strong Awakes the breezy day; Like smoke that flies across the lift, The clouds are faint and thin; And near and far along the bar, The tide comes creeping in. The dreams of midnight showed me A life of loneliness,— A stony shore, that knew no more The bright wave's soft caress; The morning broke, the vision fled— With dawn new hopes begin; The light is sweet, and at my feet The tide comes rolling in.