Jan. 10.

I know the world where land and water meet, By yonder hill abutting on the main; One while I hear the waves incessant beat, Then, turning round, survey the land again.

Within a humble cot that looks to sea, Daily I breathe this curious warm life; Beneath a friendly haven's sheltering lee My noiseless day with myst'ry still is rife.

'Tis here, they say, my simple life began; And easy credit to the tale I lend, For well I know 'tis here I am a man. But who will simply tell me of the end?

These eyes, fresh opened, spied the far-off Sea, Which like a silent godfather did stand, Nor uttered one explaining word to me, But introduced straight Godmother Land.

And yonder still stretches that silent main, With many glancing ships besprinkled o'er; And earnest still I gaze and gaze again Upon the selfsame waves and friendly shore,

Till like a watery humor on the eye It still appears whichever way I turn, Its silent waste and mute o'erarching sky With close-shut eyes I clearly still discern.

And yet with lingering doubt I haste each morn To see if ocean still my gaze will greet, And with each day once more to life am born, And tread once more the earth with infant feet.