Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1872-07-03
The High Tide.

% Mother, DEAR what is the water saying7
Mother, dear, why does the wild sea roar %
Cry the children on the white sand playing
On the white sand half mile from shore
" Little ones, L fear storm is growing.
Come away oh, let us hasten bome!'
Calls the mother; aud the wind is blowing,
Flashing up million ewes of foam.
'F Mother see our footprints as we follow
Mother, dear, what crawls along before ?"
Creeping round and round, thro' creek and hollow
Runs the tide between them and the shore
% Hasten :" cries the mother, forward flying,
E'Hasten, or we perish tis the tide -
Led by her, affrighted now and CRYING
Fly the children, barefoot, at her side
Mother, dear, the sea is coming after!
Mother, tits between us and the land
Looking back, they see the waves with laughter
Wash their little shoes from off the sand
"Quicker" screams the mother ''quicker quicker!
Fast they fly before the sullen sand.
Step by step the mothers h CIR y s sickar
Inch by inch the sea Greer and round &
" Mother, in the water we al sadis
Mother, it grows deeper as
" Hdsftl., ct il5l m. hasten-t,rsy Is fading
Higher creeps the tide so black and Slow
Nay, but % each step the waves grow deeper;
'fTurn this way !" but there tits deeper still
Still me sea breathes like drunken sleeper
still the foam crawls, and the wind blows shrilI.
Mother, there is land all green and dry land,
Grass upon it growing, and tree ~
promontory turned into an island
Upsprings there i'll the ever-rising sea
Mother, It's so deep, and we are dripping!
Mother, we are sinking! Haste, oh, haste ~
In her arms uplifting them and gripping
On she plunges, wading to the waist.
'f Mother set us down among the grasses
" Mother, we are hungry J" they cry;
Watching the bright water as it passes,
There they sit between the sea and sky.
igker crawls the sea, with deep intoning,
Passing every food-mark far near
H'I'IS the high tide y cries the mother
''Comtng only once in many year!'
higher higher tapping round the island
Flows the water with sound forlorn,
Those are flowers It's snatchng from the dry land
Pale primroses, sweet and newly born.
Smaller grows the isle where they sit sobbing
Darker grows the day on every side
Whittier grows the mother, with heart throbbing
Madly, as she marks the fatal tide:
" children. cling round me ! hold me faster!
Kiss me- God is going to take all threeI
Say the prayer taught you-He is Master
He is Lord, and his hands lie we -
Flowers the tide is snatching before;
Will it snatch these human flowers also?
Where they cling, sad creatures of the shore?
Nay for DER the tide a boat is steaIing-
On their names mans strong voice doth cry:
"God be praised - the mother crieth kneeling,
" He hath heard our prayer, and help is nigh ~
&c Father ~ cry the children 't this way father
Here we are - aloud cry girl and boy
comes the boat, the children round il gather
But the mother smiles and faints for joy
In his strong arms his pale spouse uplifting
By her side he sets the children two;
Through the twilight shoreward they are drifting
While the pale stars glimmer in the blue.
Round them in the tranquil evening weather
All The scene seems strange as strange can be =
Waves that wash green fields and knobs of heather
Lonely trees up-peeping from the sea.
Good Words.