MATTHEW ARNOLD

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday ?

Children dear, were we long alone? 1 The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. Long prayers,' I said, ' in the world they say. Come/ I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town. Through the njrrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the coU-blowing airs. We climbM on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.

She sate by the pillar ; we saw her clear :

4 Margaret, hist ! come quick, we are here.

Dear heart/ I said, ' we are long alone.

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.* But, ah ! she gave me never a look, For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book. Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the door.

Come away, children, call no more.

Come away, come down, call no more.

Down, down, down ;

Down to the depths of the sea. She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings : ' O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy. For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well.

For the wheel where I spun,

And the blessed light of the sun.'

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