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the wet plateau of the sandy shore, Where green sea-weeds their own sad fate deplore, Left by the tide's forgetful wave to rot, When it receded murmuring from the spot, Bulls with broad dewlaps, cows in careworn plight, Heifers that startle at the curlew's flight, With solemn steps, and balancing their heads, Dull, as reluctant to forsake their beds Of straw, descend, preceded one by one, By their long shadows in the risen sun; Around the black reefs ranged along the creek The herd dispersed, kneel noiseless, docile, meek, And to the salt wind from the sea that blows, With wide dilated nostrils tinged with rose, Voluptuous turn large eyes, they half unclose. It seems, as if the sea in pensive mood To rock Life's rest, hath changed its manner rude, And hardly dares upon the silver sand To roll its waves except with murmurs bland. Unwrinkled, like a forehead without care, It spreads in peace, and hills that rise in air