THE tide slips up the silver sand,
Dark night and rosy day;
It brings sea-treasures to the land,
Then bears them all away.
On mighty shores from east to west
It wails, and gropes, and cannot rest.
O Tide, that still doth ebb and flow
Through night to golden day: --
Wit, learning, beauty, come and go,
Thou giv'st -- thou tak'st away.
But some time, on some gracious shore,
Thou shalt lie still and ebb no more.
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